


Ezra Elizabeth

by minervamoon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Victor Victoria (1982)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Historical Inaccuracy, Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23277037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minervamoon/pseuds/minervamoon
Summary: All angels can sing, simple fact. A God-given gift as it were. A voice perfectly suited for celestial harmonies. But what came out of Aziraphale’s mouth was not a celestial harmony. It was pure sin-and-seduction jazz.Crowley was given the assignment to guard an up-and-coming gangster in Chicago. When that assignment takes him to Paris, he comes face-to-face with the angel he hasn't spoken to in over seventy years.Aziraphale had an assignment that didn't go according to plan. Now she's in Paris as a fake female impersonator, which brings her back into the orbit of a certain demon.The two are finally going to talk things out, or they would if a certain up-and-coming gangster wasn't getting in the way.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), King Marchand/Carole "Toddy" Todd
Comments: 101
Kudos: 148
Collections: Good Omens Rom Com Event





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [chewb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewb/pseuds/chewb) for being my beta and making sure this came out coherent.
> 
> I am Moulin Rouge'ing the eff out of the song choices in this. You have been warned.
> 
> Written for the GOROMCOM event.

Crowley had loved Prohibition. Yes, he had complained about being shipped off to America, even more so when he found out how long the assignment was for, but Prohibition had made it bearable. All the crime, the speakeasies, the rum-running- That had been especially fun. He and the Bentley (Yes, he’d brought his car along. What of it?) had made several trips in their heyday. There wasn’t anything better than shocking the humans by driving across a frozen lake for booze.

But Prohibition had ended, as all things did. Crowley missed it, but at least there was still jazz. He liked jazz. The seductive crooning that entered your ears and went down your spine. He liked music in general, but jazz had a special place in his heart. Which was why he was happy to go to the Parisian nightclub with King Marchand and his moll, Norma Cassidy. 

King was a decent guy, and that’s why Crowley had been sent to tempt him down dark paths. As usual, humans did just fine on their own. King was already on the fast track to being a big name in organized crime. All Crowley had to do was keep him alive.

“Crow,” said King as Crowley started to go find a vantage point to watch out for trouble. Trouble other than himself that is. Crowley quirked an eyebrow over his sunglasses at his “boss”, who nodded to the table reserved for him and Norma. Crowley shrugged and settled at one end of the table. There wasn’t much in the way of danger to King in Paris after all. 

Well, besides Norma. She kept giving King scathing looks any time he was remotely interested in the women on stage. King owned a nightclub where Norma performed, so it was all professional curiosity, but that didn’t matter to her. She knew King was her meal ticket, and she was constantly on the lookout for competition. Satan, did Crowley enjoy humans.

The night carried on, the music and the alcohol flowing free. Crowley had had more than a few drinks. Not the best for a bodyguard, but King knew just how well Crowley could hold his liquor, so he didn’t stop him. Crowley did have to pretend to have a human constitution, but one with a surprisingly high tolerance for alcohol. Crowley would later blame the alcohol for not sensing who else was there that night. 

He’d gotten out of the habit of always checking for him. They hadn’t spoken in over seventy years. He wasn’t even supposed to be in France as far as Crowley knew. But there he, or more precisely she was sashaying onto the stage. When did the angel learn to do that?

Crowley sat up straighter in his seat, his eyes transfixed on Aziraphale. She had taken to dresses and Crowley remembered her preference for changing pronouns with appearance. She simply glowed under the spotlight. Her white dress clung to the shapely form of her curves. The slit up the side revealed just enough of her creamy thigh to be provocative but not lewd, but the neckline exposed so much of the swell of her breasts that it couldn’t even try to call itself demure. Aziraphale’s curls were up in something vaguely Grecian and wrapped in gold rope, but the color was off. Too dark. Crowley knew Aziraphale’s hair, the almost white-blond fluff that looked as soft as duck down, and that wasn’t it. Had she dyed it? Or had she not made it longer when she changed form? And why was she on the bloody stage?

That’s when Aziraphale opened her ruby lips and began to sing.

All angels can sing, simple fact. A God-given gift as it were. A voice perfectly suited for celestial harmonies. But what came out of Aziraphale’s mouth was not a celestial harmony. It was pure sin-and-seduction jazz. Crowley could feel it as a physical wave, washing over him, creeping into him, and starting a low burn in his center. Crowley barely heard the words, something about blame and melting, but he felt them to his core with every sway of Aziraphale’s hips in time to the music. Crowley wasn’t sure he could ever watch Aziraphale do his nervous fidget sway ever again and not think of this moment right here. And he wasn’t the only one. Crowley could feel the lust rolling off the audience as the song continued on. Crowley fisted his trouser leg in one hand against the urge to do something stupid, like light the whole place on fire just to get everyone else to leave. But, as much as he wanted to do that, he didn’t want Aziraphale to stop singing.

The song ended with Aziraphale hitting a note so softly it was practically ethereal. Crowley was a little slow to start applauding, drunk on Aziraphale’s voice, mesmerized while she took her well-deserved bow. Crowley had just got his hands moving when Aziraphale pulled off the wig. Short curls were damp and tight to her-his-Crowley wasn’t sure anymore head. A standing ovation started around Crowley, Norma’s loud cheers breaking Crowley out of his reverie. He glanced at King who was pale and looking at the program he’d been given when they arrived. Crowley leaned in to read over his shoulder. Two pictures looked back at them. Aziraphale smiled in one, wearing a tuxedo, features softer than Crowley remembered. The name Ezra was printed under the photo. The second one was the angel in the white dress with the name Elizabeth underneath. A female impersonator? Aziraphale?

King’s color hadn’t gotten better. In fact, it looked worse, and Crowley could feel the lingering lust coming from the human. Not surprising given the performance, and it certainly wasn’t the first time the angel had a human questioning their sexuality.

Norma was laughing now as she flopped back into her seat. “He really had you fooled, didn’t he, King?”

“That can’t be a man,” said King gruffly. Norma rolled her eyes and tapped her finger on the Ezra photo. King closed the book and pushed it away violently. The book went sliding off the table. “I don’t care what that says, that was a woman.” He looked to Crowley for support.

“Why would he lie?” asked Crowley. Why indeed? King gave him a scathing, betrayed glare. He’d worked for King for nearly a decade now; King thought of him as a friend and Crowley sort of felt the same. 

“He is a she,” husked King emphatically.

“Geez, no reason to get so steamed about it,” said Norma. “You act like you was fallin’ in love or somethin’.” King said nothing, he didn’t even meet her gaze. Norma burst out laughing, earning their table dirty looks. King grimaced and stood suddenly. “He got your motor runnin’, didn’t he?” Norma’s face was full of glee at the idea.

“No,” said King shortly.

“Got my motor running,” admitted Crowley as he followed King and Norma. King shot him another scathing glare. It had nothing on what ole Beelzebub could do though, so Crowley just gave him an apologetic shrug. “Well, he did.”

The owner of the nightclub met them as they left the club proper and made their way into the vestibule where the coat check was. “Ah, Monsieur Marchand, leaving so soon?”

King opened his mouth to say what looked to be a very curt yes, but paused. “Actually, I was wondering if we might be able to meet, uh, the uh-” King made a vague motion back to the stage.

“Monsieur Ezra?” supplied the other man, smiling brightly. “But of course. Right this way.”

Crowley fell into step behind the humans. It gave him time to straighten his tuxedo jacket and smooth his hand over his hair. He wasn’t nervous, he told himself. He just hadn’t seen Aziraphale in seventy years. Not that long at all really, but he didn’t want to look shabby. Didn’t want the angel thinking he wasn’t getting along just fine on his own.

The owner led them backstage and downstairs. There was a throng of people milling around an open dressing room door. The second Crowley could see Aziraphale’s back, easy to spot in a beige smoking jacket, he snapped his fingers and time came to a sudden halt. That pale-coated back straightened. 

“Crowley?” asked Azirphale before he had even turned, a smile in his voice. Suddenly Crowley was back in that cell in 1793. Faint jazz may have hung in the air instead of screams, but there he was. The coat was even the same shade. He held his breath as Aziraphale turned and gave him that same once over. “Oh, much better than last time,” said the angel cheerfully, lips curled into a happy grin. Crowley’s heart skipped a beat and he felt himself smiling back at the angel.

“Angel, you are the last person I expected to see here.,” said Crowley. He wasn’t able to wipe the smile off his face but tried to mold it into something teasing instead of hopelessly besotted. “And on stage no less. Not very angelic.”

“You don’t think so?” Aziraphale paused as Crowley slithered his way through the crowd of humans. “What are you doing here?”

“Asked you first.” This close up Crowley was certain Aziraphale was in female form, but then why was she pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman?

Aziraphale’s head tilted to the side in thought. “No, I don’t think you did. But, if you must know, I was on assignment. It-didn’t go so well.” Aziraphale paused and twisted a handkerchief between her hands as she fidgeted. Teasing, not besotted. Teasing, not besotted. “But when it was over with, I decided to stay on for a bit. I haven’t seen Paris since, well, that last time with you.”

Crowley’s grin widened and he leaned in just a hair. “You stayed for more crepes, didn’t you?”

Aziraphale pursed her lips in an annoyed pout. Damn, but the angel could tempt without even trying. “Possibly.”

Crowley couldn’t stop looking at that pout, Aziraphale’s Cupid’s Bow was more defined in this shape, the lingering stain of the lipstick setting it off on her pale face. Crowley had to pull himself back, glad his dark glasses were hiding where he was looking. This was crazy, they’d spent longer apart, seeing Aziraphale shouldn’t be doing this kind of number on him. Satan, it was the Globe all over again, those puppy-dog eyes. Oh and Aziraphale’s eyes, more green than blue in this light, were alight, happy. To see him? Please let it be because of him. 

“And all this?” asked Crowley, realizing the pause had gone a tick over what it should have. He motioned his hand around them. 

“This is all Toddy’s idea.” Aziraphale nodded her head to an older gentleman frozen a few feet away. “Such a dear man. He mistook me for desperate for a job when I came into the club he was working at to get out of the rain.” She chuckled fondly at the memory. “He got me cocoa-”

“Quickest way to your heart,” teased Crowley. That got him a reproachful glance, but it couldn’t stop Crowley’s smile.

“Then he went so far as to lie to the owner to get me an audition. So kind, really. He got fired for that. I waited for him outside the club to apologize, but then he took that as me needing a place to stay. He really is one of the most kind-hearted humans I’ve met in a long time. Terrible taste in men though I’m afraid.” Aziraphale shook her head. “No love lost between them, but he couldn’t even be bothered to be civil to Toddy. And Toddy had been so sweet, he didn’t deserve to be treated like that, and I-well, I may have gotten a bit violent.” Aziraphale’s expression might have been sheepish, but Crowley couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Oh, Angel,” laughed Crowley fondly. “So you defend some human’s honor and he decides you should fake being a female impersonator?”

“Well, I’m not exactly faking, am I? As an angel, I’m not specifically male or female.”

“Point. But they don’t know that, do they?”

“Of course not.”

“And you’re just going to do this now? What about your bookshop?” Crowley was already working out the logistics of permanently moving to Paris. He’d have to make up an excuse like he was getting a lot of assignments in the city for the next century or so until Aziraphale forgot it was unusual. Or he could just say there was no way he was missing Aziraphale as a lounge singer, which was true enough.

“This is just until my next assignment. By then I should have hopefully fixed things for Toddy. Find him a job, with enough from my earnings that he’ll be comfortable for a little while at least.”

“Why don’t you just bless him or something and be on your way? Why all this?” Crowley watched Aziraphale sway, and yep, jazz was playing in the back of his head. But there was something all too familiar about the way Aziraphale wasn’t meeting his eyes, playing with her handkerchief. Aziraphale was stalling, just like that time at the Bastille. Crowley pushed up his sunglasses to rub at his eyes. “Satan help me. Again, Angel? What is it with you and Paris?”

Aziraphale frowned another inviting pout with her plump lips. “Well, what about you then?” she asked snippily. “What are you doing in Paris?”

Crowley thumbed back at King. “Supposed to lead him astray.”

Aziraphale leaned to one side to get a look. “Is he really an American gangster?” she asked.

Well, someone had been telling tales, thought Crowley. “He’s getting there. Could be one of the greats if he plays his cards right.”

“Don’t you mean wrong, dear?”

Crowley’s heart gave a little flutter at the pet name, hoping it meant their row was finally over. He covered it up with, “I don’t want to debate semantics right now, Angel. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this.” He waved his hand up and down Aziraphale’s body.

“What’s so hard to understand? As far as anyone other than you and Toddy knows I’m Count-”

“Count?” interrupted Crowley with a snort.

“Toddy can be a bit melodramatic,” sighed Aziraphale fondly.

“You two must be the best of friends.” The words tasted bitter on Crowley’s tongue. Aziraphale didn’t want to be caught “fraternizing” with him but could be absolutely chummy with a lounge singer. “Nevermind, Angel. I should start time again.” He turned on his heel to get back into position. Aziraphale’s hand, so soft and warm on his arm even through his jacket sleeve, stopped him.

“Are you still angry with me about the holy water?”

Crowley pulled his arm from Aziraphale’s grasp. “The holy water was never what I was angry about.” Before Aziraphale could respond, he snapped his fingers and time started to flow once more. To Hell with object continuity.

****

Aziraphale couldn’t think of a response, she was completely speechless as Crowley’s words hit her in the gut. What did he mean it wasn’t the holy water he was upset about? Crowley had seemed pretty upset about it seventy years ago. Aziraphale started to speak, to demand Crowley explain himself, but then the demon was restarting time. It was just like him to say something like that and then try to avoid the fallout. Aziraphale couldn’t even ask him to stop time again so they could have this out before she was accosted by the blonde woman that had come in with Crowley and King Marchand. 

The woman furrowed her brows in confusion as she saw Crowley walking away from Aziraphale. “How’d you get here first?” she asked.

“Trade secret,” replied Crowley, slipping back behind King. The woman brushed it off and focused on Aziraphale.

“Hi. Norma Cassidy,” she said with a smile, offering her hand to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale took the hand and kissed it politely. “Enchante,” she said. Norma gave King a pointed look. “I hope you enjoyed the show.”

“You were really grand,” said Norma. “Though King here doesn’t believe you’re a man.” She smiled like that was a wonderful joke.

“Oh?” Aziraphale turned her attention to the man. He was attractive enough, for a human, and the raffish way he held himself said he knew it too. It immediately set Aziraphale on edge. She really only had room in her life for one being like that and she was still reeling from their last conversation. “And why is that?” Aziraphale held out her hand to shake King’s. 

“No one is that good,” said King, taking Aziraphale’s hand in a firm grip. Aziraphale bit back a sigh at the silly show of masculinity and returned in kind. Female body or no, Aziraphale was still an angel, and a human was no match in strength. King looked surprised as they both let go. 

“Thank you.” Aziraphale smiled and tucked her handkerchief in her pocket.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” said King. His expression and tone were confused and defensive. He was eyeing Aziraphale up and down.

“Ah, now I understand. You found me attractive as a woman and that made you uncomfortable,” said Aziraphale as gently as she could, which wasn’t as much as it should have been if Crowley trying to repress a grin behind King was anything to go by.

“I’m not uncomfortable because I’m not wrong.”

“See?” said Norma. “What’d I tell you?” She laughed loudly and King sighed.

“Norma, mingle,” he ordered.

Really, this man, thought Aziraphale to herself. 

Norma frowned, but then Toddy was swanning his way through the crowd. He introduced himself politely.

“Care to mingle, Mr. Todd?” asked Norma, flashing a cold look over her shoulder at King. 

“Miss Cassidy, excluding Ezra’s performance, mingling with you will be the highlight of my night,” said Toddy. 

Aziraphale smiled fondly at Toddy then returned her attention to King. “There’s no shame in it,” she said, not letting the earlier comment lie. “It’s hardly the first time it’s happened.” Crowley covered his mouth and turned slightly away from the pair. Well, at least someone was enjoying the conversation.

“Not to me,” said King firmly, a tone that said it would brook no argument.

The sheer gall of the man. He was acting as if Aziraphale was purposefully trying to entice him. She took a steadying breath and gave him a sly smile. “You know the old saying; there’s a first time for everything.”

Crowley snorted, then sneezed. Aziraphale immediately got her handkerchief back out. The demon could never be counted on to have one himself. She handed it to Crowley while King gave her a strained smile. “If you were a man I’d knock your block off.”

Aziraphale turned her full attention on King, taking a step closer and squaring her stance. King’s jaw twitched. “Then what’s stopping you?” she responded, a challenging grin crossing her face. He might have technically been right about her current gender, but his arrogance made Aziraphale quite willing to knock him down a few pegs.

“Uh, boss?” said Crowley, possibly trying to break the tension, possibly not wanting to have to get between them if a fight did break out.

“Stay out of this, Crow,” ordered King. Then to Aziraphale he added, with obvious restraint in his voice, “I don’t hit women.” 

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem,” said Aziraphale.

King opened his mouth to speak, hands clenched at his sides, Crowley poised to grab him if need be, but then Aziraphale’s agent, Andre, came over to them and cut through the tension. “Ah, Monsieur Marchand, how did you like our dear count’s performance?”

“Very nice indeed,” said King, suddenly all polite grace again.

“Ah, wonderful. And will we be seeing you at the afterparty?”

“No, I don’t think so. Early tee time.” King turned to Crowley. “Get Norma,” he said.

Crowley, who had just pulled a face that only Aziraphale noticed at the mention of golf, muttered, “Sure thing, boss,” and stepped away. He gave Aziraphale a quick look, almost a goodbye, as he left. Aziraphale felt her heart sink. She wanted to follow after him, talk to him one more time before he was gone. But they both had their parts to play, as always. She could only hope it wouldn’t be another three-quarters of a century before they saw each other again. 

King said his goodbyes quickly and left, not waiting for Crowley or Norma. Neither one of them seemed to take offense as they followed after him.

“So, what do you think of King Marchand?” asked Toddy as he returned to Aziraphale’s side and Andre had gone to check on their car.

“I think he’s one of the most arrogant and conceited men I’ve ever met,” said Aziraphale sharply, trying not to be upset over Crowley leaving with everything still such a mess between them.

“Yes. I think I could fall in love with him.”

Aziraphale internally flinched, knowing all too well Toddy’s taste in men. “Yes,” she murmured. “So could I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song referenced in this chapter: ["Don't Blame Me"](https://youtu.be/CkqKURwl9m0)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my wonderful beta, [chewb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewb/pseuds/chewb) for helping me with this.

Despite not getting to talk to Crowley again, Aziraphale was looking forward to a relaxing dinner and drinks at the after-party. To her surprise, King Marchand deigned to grace them with his presence after all.

“No golf then?” asked Aziraphale as she shook the man’s hand in greeting.

“Weather’s looking bad,” muttered King. They were invited to join their table. The only saving grace was that Crowley was part of the party, though he was sitting several seats away. Norma immediately took the seat next to Toddy, grinning flirtatiously. That put King across from Aziraphale. “Do you play golf, Count?”

King’s tone was polite and sociable, and Aziraphale felt her previous annoyance for the man fade somewhat. Perhaps he was trying to make amends for his earlier behavior.

“Not in ages,” said Aziraphale. When had the last time been? She could hardly remember. She was turning to Crowley, so lost in trying to remember she forgot herself, when King interrupted.

“No, I didn’t think so.” King was smiling softly to himself as though Aziraphale had assured him of something. 

All prior goodwill forgotten, Aziraphale rankled at the man’s words. “It’s really not my sport,” she heard herself saying, voice calm and light. “I prefer fencing,” she added, eyes leveled on King.

King stared at Aziraphale, trying to read her, trying to find the lie. Aziraphale took a bite of her rather lovely steak and kept her steady gaze directed at him. She knew he wouldn’t find a lie because there wasn’t one. It had been a tick since the last time she’d had a sword in her hand, but it had been less time than a golf club. Of that she was certain.

“To watch?” asked King carefully.

“No,” replied Aziraphale, letting a patronizing tone creep into her voice.

King frowned at her a moment longer, then shook his head. “Nope, I don’t buy it.”

“Why? Because you still believe I'm a woman?”

“To put it bluntly, yes.”

“Well then you are incorrect on two points: my gender and that women can’t fence.”

King’s expression darkened. “Easy thing to say you can fence,” he replied sharply, a challenge in his tone.

“I’d be happy to prove it to you.” Aziraphale threw down the proverbial gauntlet with a smile over her glass before taking a sip.

An indignant flush came over King’s features. “You’re on,” he growled. “Just tell me when and where.”

Trust this bull-headed man not to know when to back down. “Do you know how to fence, Monsieur Marchand?”

“No, I’m more a boxer myself.”

“Ah, yes. You do have a pugilist’s air about you.” Aziraphale winced at her own tone. “Forgive me, that was rude. I have nothing but respect for anyone with that much dedication to their art.”

King flushed, quite obviously taken aback by Aziraphale’s words. “I wouldn’t call it an art,” he stumbled. “More like if someone’s going to throw a punch at you, you need to know how to throw one back.”

“I completely understand. I wouldn’t know the first thing about fencing if I didn’t have to.”

That caused King to raise an eyebrow. “Much call for fencing where you’re from?”

Dash it all, thought Aziraphale. Swordsmanship had gone quite out of style now, hadn’t it? No reason for her to learn now. She caught Crowely’s grin at her being caught. “Well, it’s-that is to say it was expected of me by my family.”

King paused then didn’t say more. Aziraphale sipped her wine. Toddy’s silly Count story was proving useful after all. 

“I still don’t believe it,” said the insufferable man a moment later.

“What is so hard to believe?” asked Aziraphale. “Just think of it this way; you’re one kind of man, and I’m another.”

King’s reply was cut short by Norma’s shrill voice. “You’re gay!” she exclaimed, staring at Toddy in shock.

“Incredibly so,” replied Toddy with the grace of a saint. Norma gave him a once over, mouth moving incredulously.

“But you’re so…” She motioned up and down the man. “Seems such a waste,” she finally got out.

“Why thank you, my dear, but I can assure you it’s not wasted.”

Aziraphale relaxed and started to return her attention to King.

“You know, I bet the right woman could reform you,” said Norma, her tone obvious in its suggestion. Aziraphale glanced over at King, but he hardly seemed perturbed that his...lady friend was flirting with another man.

Toddy chuckled and replied, “I was just thinking the same about you.”

Norma cackled out a shocked laugh. “Me? Give up men? Never!”

Toddy covered her hand with his. “My dear, you took the words right out of my mouth.” The pair shared a laugh at this. Aziraphale gave a small grin and shake of her head.

“You know,” came Crowley’s amused drawl. It demanded Aziraphale’s attention, not in any words or inflection, but just because Crowley was speaking. Her ears just wanted to listen to him. “You two are missing the obvious solution.”

“And what’s that?” snapped Norma in annoyance.

Crowley’s grin only grew wider. “Both,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulder.

Norma gave another shocked laugh, Toddy grinned and saluted Crowley with his drink. Crowley returned both. King choked on his own drink at Crowley’s comment. Aziraphale stood and moved to pat the man on the back.

“Are you all right, dear?” asked Azirpahale, leaning over the man. No matter her personal feelings, they were no reason to let the man choke. King nodded and waved her off. There was a calculating look in his eyes as she settled back down.

The table fell into silence for several seconds until the music around them changed. “Oh!” squealed Norma, jumping to her feet. “A tango!” She rushed to King who was already waving her off before she had a chance to ask.

“Why don’t you see if the Count here would oblige? I bet he does a mean tango.”

“You would be wrong,” said Aziraphale. She politely smiled up at Norma’s questioning expression. “The tango just isn’t my dance. I’m sorry, dear.” Norma stuck out her bottom lip in a prodigious pout.

Crowley’s sigh cut across the table. “Come on, Norma,” he said, rising to his feet. Norma gave another happy squeal and took his offered elbow. Aziraphale watched them walk to the dance floor in surprise.

“Is it normal for bodyguards to dance while on duty?” asked Aziraphale, eyes on Crowley’s back as he took Norma in his arms.

“Crow’s job is to give me peace of mind,” King explained. “Keeping Norma happy falls into that category.”

Aziraphale murmured in understanding, her attention caught on Crowley. In all their time together, that is, in all their time on Earth working in close proximity to one another, Aziraphale couldn’t remember ever seeing Crowley dance. She wasn’t going to miss this.

Crowley’s back stayed to Aziraphale at the beginning, straight and firm and unlike Crowley at all. Crowly had always been a being of too much motion when he moved, as if he was trying to slither instead of walk. Now, though, all that energy was condensed down into each controlled step, sharp and precise. Aziraphale’s heart kept time with the beat as Crowley moved Norma across the dance floor, power and strength exuding from every step. The muscles in his shoulders were tight under his jacket. The music became even faster and he matched it easily, his steps remaining crisp. He did something, some rapid twisting of his hips and legs, tangling them around and between Norma’s, too fast for Aziraphale to follow with her eyes even as it heated her blood to watch him move. They snapped around as one, then Crowley spun Norma and she dropped down, back flush against his front, then slid herself back up his body before Crowley forcibly turned her and brought them back together, Crowley’s arm tight around Norma’s waist. The motion pulled Aziraphale’s heart into her throat. They promenaded a few steps before Crowley snapped Norma in front of him. He was facing Aziraphale now as he dipped Norma slowly, her head thrown back and his face suggestively close to her throat. All at once, they were upright again and even through those dark lenses peering over Norma’s shoulder, Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s eyes on her. Aziraphale forced herself to start breathing again, feeling the flush in her face and the heat pooling in places one dared not speak of. Aziraphale took a sip of wine to try and shake off the reaction to the dance, to Crowley.

Norma wiggled her way back to King. She sat in his lap, ignoring his annoyed look, and took a sip of his drink. Her face was flushed and each pant emphasized her bosom.

“King?” Norma crooned, leaning closer. “Can we go now?” Her fingers were playing with the buttons of his shirt, her intent obvious in the tone of her voice. King opened his mouth to speak but then paused. He looked to Aziraphale before answering. 

“Sure thing.” King waited only a second for Norma to get up before standing and then held out his hand. “Nice talking to you, Count.”

“Please, call me Ezra,” said Aziraphale, standing and shaking the man’s hand. “And the pleasure was all mine,” she added politely.

“What about the sword fightin’?” asked Norma. “You’re still gonna do that, ain'tcha?” If Aziraphale wasn’t mistaken, she thought she saw King give her a look that said ‘you had to open your mouth.’ She didn’t know who she felt sorry for in the relationship. They both seemed so unhappy.

“I don’t think there’s any reason to go through with that,” said Aziraphale. “I let my mouth get away with me. It wouldn’t be fair to actually fight you.”

“What’s this about swords?” asked Toddy. It would seem he had not heard the earlier conversation. How Norma had heard it over her own voice, Aziraphale did not know.

“Wouldn’t be fair?” replied King and Aziraphale could already tell his ire was rising. Really, the man had such a thin skin.

“There’s no reason to be offended, dear boy. I simply know how to fence and you don’t.”

King straightened his back. “How hard can it be? You just tell me when and where, Count.”

“Very well. I’ll have that information for you in two days. Simply call the club. Good night, Mr. Marchand. Miss Cassidy. Crowley-Mr. Crowley,” fumbled Aziraphale at the last. With a final nod to Crowley, she stalked away from the group, Toddy following. Thankfully her new agent stayed behind to settle the bill.

Toddy said nothing until they were outside, then he whispered. “Elizabeth, darling. Fencing?”

“It’s something I picked up...in the opera,” said Aziraphale, grasping for a plausible excuse.

“That’s stage fighting!” Toddy hissed.

“King Marchand won’t know the difference.”

“King Marchand looks to be the type that knows something about fighting.”

“I’ll be fine, dear,” said Aziraphale, patting Toddy on the arm while he waved down a cab. 

****

Crowley took the lead into the hotel room. This was his job after all, make sure some gunman wasn't hiding in the loo. It wasn't as though there had never been a need for Crowley to guard King, but there was a tremendous lack of it while on holiday in France. Still, he checked the bedroom and the ensuite bath.

"Check under the bed?" Norma snapped as she waited impatiently. Crowley didn't take it personally. She was horny and found the whole thing just as useless as he did.

"Yep," replied Crowley, popping the P. 

"It's his job, Norma," sighed King.

"Does he have to stay in the same suite with us? I always think he's going to come in on us while we're making love." Norma crooned the last of the sentence rocking her hips provocatively.

"He'd only do that if he heard something unusual, like if I was enjoying myself."

Crowley had moved behind Norma before King had finished speaking and took the statuette she'd grabbed away before she could chuck it at King. Her aim was too good. Her ire was directed at him, which was ok, he could handle it. Norma flounced into the bedroom she shared with King and slammed the door behind herself. Crowley and King exchanged looks. Crowley went to the minibar and poured two scotches, passing one to King.

"How long do you think this time?" King asked.

"Five minutes. Let her pretend she's the one calling the shots." 

King nodded and sipped the liquor. "Uh, Crow? Mind if I ask you something?"

If King hadn't sounded so nervous, Crowley would have quipped something like 'You already did.' Instead, he nodded silently.

"Did you mean what you said? About…" King paused so long Crowley began to wonder if he'd lost his nerve. "About both?"

"Yeah. Both is a valid option."

"And you've…both?"

Crowley smirked around the lip of his glass. "Yep," he popped again.

"But, I've known you for over ten years now. You-you can take out guys twice your size."

"Your point?"

"I just wouldn't have pegged you for the type."

Crowley ignored the low hanging fruit. "No, you wouldn't." Ok, he didn't entirely ignore it, but the joke went over King's head. Ahead of his time. "Would you have hired me if I'd swanned in like the Count?" He would have, Crowley would have put the thought in his head harder, but he would have. As it was he'd only had to start a brawl in King's club, then stop it physically to impress King into hiring him.

King didn't answer, just downed his drink and put the glass on the bar. Crowley could tell there was something else he wanted to ask. His hands reached to pick up the glass again, then he stopped himself and pulled his hand away. His shoulders were tense. They were treading into territory men just didn’t get into in this day and age. Small-minded humans with smaller-minded religions. Crowley couldn’t even blame Heaven for this one. Humans had decided it was wrong and pretended it had come from God. 

Crowley opened his mouth to begin the awkward conversation because he knew King needed it, but wouldn’t be the one to start, and Crowley actually liked the guy.

"Well, wish me luck,” said King quickly, as if he knew what Crowley was about to do. Crowley sighed and saluted him with his glass. A conversation for another day. He watched King knock on the closed bedroom door. No reply came from inside, which was a good sign. If Norma was still mad she would have shouted or thrown something at the door. King opened the door and went inside. Crowley refilled his glass to the rim and stepped out onto the balcony. His room would have been quieter, but he wasn't ready to sleep yet. He'd gotten to see Aziraphale, and was going to get to again in just a few days. He would never admit it but the thought made him a bit giddy. Ridiculous reaction, giddiness; too much adrenaline and happy chemicals swirling around like champagne bubbles in your blood. The cold air outside should put a stop to it.

Or it would have if the balcony hadn't had a perfect view of the room across the narrow hotel courtyard, and if said room hadn't been where the angel causing all the blasted giddiness happened to be standing roughly ten minutes later. 

Someone hated him. Someone really, really hated him.

Then Aziraphale noticed him as she glanced out the French doors leading out to her balcony. Even at this distance, Crowley could see her eyes widen in surprise. He raised his glass to her, and she smiled warmly. A second later she was slipping out onto the balcony and leaning against the banister.

Someone liked him. Someone really, really liked him.

"What are you doing here?" Aziraphale asked. Her voice was too soft for human ears at that distance, but Crowley heard her anyway, and he was watching how her mouth moved in the dim light.

"Hotel," said Crowley. "Same as you, I'd wager." Aziraphale looked slightly abashed.

"Of course. I-I was just surprised to see you."

"A good surprise, I hope," said Crowley's traitorous mouth.

"Always," replied Aziraphale with that gentle smile that drove Crowley mad. The smile that made Crowley feel like he might actually be worth a damn.

"Well, maybe we should-"

"Elizabeth, darling, what are you doing out here? It's freezing," said Toddy, stepping out onto the balcony. Only then did he notice Crowley. He looked nervous then spoke louder. "Oh, Mr. Crowley. Small world."

"What's that?" Crowley called back, relieving the man of his worry he'd thrown the whole ruse. He caught Aziraphale's thankful smile.

"I said, 'Small world,'" repeated Toddy, nearly shouting across the empty space between their balconies.

"Smaller every day," replied Crowley.

"Well, we're going to wake the whole building at this rate. Would you and your party like to join us for a nightcap?"

Okay, Crowley was starting to warm up to this Toddy guy. He seemed to be a genuinely nice person. Crowley was just about to accept for himself when the unholy shriek of an enraged she-demon came from inside his hotel suite. Hell's Bells, what had King done now?

"Raincheck," called out Crowley quickly before ducking back inside.

"Nobody puts soap in my mouth!" Norma was screaming while literally foaming at the mouth. Crowley had to bite back a laugh as he got in between her and King.

“Do I want to know, Boss?” asked Crowley as he grabbed Norma’s wrists and dodged a well-aimed knee.

King looked about ready to hide in Crowley’s room again. “I want her gone, Crow. I want her on the first train out of here. I’m done with this.”

“You’re done with this!” screeched Norma. Crowley was fairly certain he had just lost an eardrum. She went on a renewed attack, trying to get free of Crowley. Crowley quickly switched his hold to wrapping his arms around her waist and hauling her off her feet.

“Nothing personal, Norma. Just doing my job,” grunted Crowley as he began to carry the thrashing woman back to the bedroom to pack. He put her down outside the door. "Go on. Get packed up. You don't want to hang around a guy that'd do that to you, do you?" He put a little push into his words and Norma finally started to calm down.

"No. No, I don't," she replied. She tried to wipe at her mouth, saw the white foam, and nearly went off again. "But he-"

"Is an arse who doesn't deserve you. We both know it. And as long as you stick around, he won't realize what a good thing he's got." 

Norma paused and glared at King. Then with a huff, she spun on her heel, went into the bedroom, and slammed the door in Crowley’s face. Crowley just sighed and leaned his back against the door.

“No offense, Boss, but what the bloody hell was that about? Soap?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said King, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Just make sure she gets on the train all right.”

“Sure thing. You just hide in there until she’s gone,” said Crowley with a smirk.

“Hey, watch it. You still work for me,” warned King, but there was no venom in his words. King closed the bedroom door, and Crowley pulled himself out of his lean to call down to the front desk and check the train schedule.

****

The taxi ride to the train station was filled with cold silence. Norma was still fuming, but it was a quiet rage now. That was worse. Her temper tantrums had always gotten her what she wanted before, mainly for King to cave and let her get her way. Crowley couldn't blame her for losing it when the rules changed. And the soap had been a bit much, not King’s style at all. 

"Norma, just forget about King," said Crowley gently. Not very demonic, consoling humans, but Crowley doubted anyone was watching at the moment. And if they were, soothing her anger could fall under protecting King.

"He's shipping me off like yesterday's trash," hissed Norma. "All because of that-that crossdressing fairy!"

Crowley held his tongue, barely fighting against the urge to defend Aziraphale. "Take my advice. Go home, forget King. Sidle up to Sal or one of the other guys. King’s not worth wasting your time being angry over.” He would have pushed as he spoke to make the idea more appealing, but he didn’t have to. Norma knew her options, and Sal was a good one. He’d already made his interest in Norma known, and he was King’s business partner. She’d probably be right back in the same position when the next hot tail trotted by Sal, but that was a worry for later.

“You tell King Marchand that he’s gonna be sorry,” Norma growled as the taxi pulled into the train station. Crowley sighed as he got out and held the door for her. “If I ever see him again, I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind so big he’s gonna choke on it!”

“You bet,” nodded Crowley. Norma wasn’t done with her rant, not by a long shot, but Crowley had gotten very good at tuning her out as he got a porter to take her bags. Crowley had just reached out to escort Norma inside the station when she grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him in, laying a wet one right on his lips. “M’gmph!” 

Norma pressed her body flush against Crowley’s, wrapping her arms tight around his neck and grinding her hips. He squirmed free enough to get air between them and tried to push her farther away. “Come on, Crow. I’m not King’s anymore,” she panted, her hips rocking against his.

Crowley pulled Norma off him finally and held her at arm's length. “Er-uh-Thanks for the offer, but no.”

“Crow,” purred Norma, tilting her head and batting her eyelashes at him.

“You’ve got a train to catch,” said Crowley flatly. He gripped her elbow and started to lead her into the station. She huffed as he bought her ticket.

“What’s your problem?” Norma grumbled as he took her by the elbow again to get her into the train. “King never has to know.”

“No,” said Crowley, pushing her towards the stairs leading up into the train. Norma turned, eyes cold, and stomped on his foot with her heel. Crowley let out a hiss that wasn’t entirely human. Norma took a step back, then schooled herself.

“That’s what you get for turning me down,” she said in a huff before disappearing inside the train. Crowley let out a sigh of relief, turning from the train and wiping at his mouth. His hand came away smeared with Norma’s pink lipstick. He subtly miracled the lipstick away and continued back to the hotel, all the while wishing it had been a different blonde who had kissed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my deepest thanks to [chewb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewb/pseuds/chewb) for being a wonderful beta and making sure this all made sense.

Crowley decided not to tell King about the proposition long before he got back to the hotel. Whether Norma had done it to make herself feel better or hurt King somehow, it didn’t bear mentioning. He needn’t have bothered coming to the resolution though because King was already in his own bedroom by the time Crowley returned. Crowley called a polite, “Night, Boss,” at the closed bedroom door, but didn’t get more than a snore in reply. Already asleep. Crowley was tempted to pretend Norma was back, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

Alone in the sitting room, Crowley took off his dark glasses and rubbed his eyes, finally feeling the effects of the day. He glanced forlornly at the double doors leading to the balcony. Crowley sighed and headed for his bedroom, shedding his tuxedo jacket as he went and tossing it on a chair when he got into the room. 

Aziraphale might still be awake, said a traitorous part of his brain. She never did care much for sleeping. Though with Toddy there she might have to put up appearances. And it wasn’t like he could go over there and ask if that nightcap was still on the table.

Crowley gave another sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets. His hand brushed soft cloth. He pulled Aziraphale’s handkerchief from his pocket. Aziraphale hadn’t even noticed he hadn’t returned it. It didn’t mean anything. He was a demon, he was supposed to steal things. Wasn’t even the first time he’d done it, so really it was Aziraphale’s own fault. 

Crowley did not hold the pure white silk under his nose and breathe in the scent of the angel. He did not put it under his pillow before snapping himself into a pair of black pajamas. And he did not slip his hand under that pillow once he was in bed and fist the handkerchief in his hand as he went to sleep.

****

Crowley had expected King to try and put Aziraphale out of his mind, but no. King announced they were going back to the club the very next night. It wasn’t what Crowley would have done. He would have tried not to think about Aziraphale, avoid what he couldn’t have, what he wasn’t allowed to have. But, King had never come across something he couldn’t have, not in the time Crowley had known him at least. No, he shouldn’t have been surprised King didn’t wait it out. Just surprised he wanted Aziraphale.

Crowley tried to shrug it off. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to watch a human fawn over Aziraphale, and it wouldn’t be the last. It never got any easier; watching them get to pursue, woo, court; all those things he wasn’t supposed to think about doing where Aziraphale was concerned.

Crowley sighed and pushed those thoughts back down as he and King gave their coats to the hat check person. He couldn’t think those kinds of thoughts around the angel. Didn't do any good. Wouldn’t change anything.

Crowley could already hear Aziraphale’s voice as they entered the club proper. King had reserved a table up front, and they quickly tried to make their way to it without disrupting the show. Crowley’s eyes were on Aziraphale only.

Tonight she was in a blue number that brought out the green in her eyes. Those green eyes caught his just as he started to sit down.

“You’re getting to be a habit with me,” sang Aziraphale, voice teasing and seductive. Then she winked. At him.

Crowley’s rear hit the floor hard. He’d completely missed his chair, landing flat on his ass. The angel’s eyes widened, but Crowley quickly waved the worry off as he got into his chair. King gave him a questioning look but neither spoke for not wanting to interrupt the performance.

Crowley tried to focus on Aziraphale’s face, which led to staring at those lush, red lips. But at least he wasn’t looking anywhere else, like her gently swaying hips or her arms as she wrapped them around herself, practically cradling her-

Crowley swallowed dryly, desperately glad for his dark glasses hiding his eyes from Aziraphale. He needed to get a hold of himself, but he couldn’t look away. Technically he didn’t have to either. It was a performance after all. Would he reveal more if he looked away or not? Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, damned any way you slice it; which was Crowley in a nutshell.

Aziraphale’s performance ended with no more bruising to Crowley’s ego. She took her bow and left the stage, and Crowley let his body go from casually reclined to full-on slump. He needed a drink, badly. Crowley glanced around. Where was the bloody waiter? With a sigh, Crowley got to his feet. 

“Going to the bar,” he said to King.

“The usual for me,” replied King. Crowley gave a mock salute and sauntered his way to the back of the club where the bar was stationed. There he ordered a shot of whiskey for himself, threw it back, then ordered two dry martinis for the table. When Crowley got back to the table with the drinks, King was reading over a small note. Crowley could see the handwriting from where he stood. He recognized the fine, looping script.

King looked up at Crowley with a sly, pleased expression. “The Count would like me to come to his dressing room,” he said.

****

“I told you more flirting was a good idea,” said Toddy as Aziraphale immediately went to her vanity and shuffled through drawers for paper and a pen. She found both and pulled them out. “No one in the club could-What are you doing?”

“Asking Mr. Crowley to come backstage,” said Aziraphale, keeping her head still as she wrote because Toddy was helping remove her wig. Then she added quickly, “I have the particulars for that silly fencing match to give to Mr. Marchand.”

“Why don’t you just ask him back here then?” asked Toddy with a sly grin at Aziraphale’s reflection. Aziraphale caught it in the mirror and frowned back at it. 

“That man needs no encouragement,” she said curtly. Toddy chuckled. Aziraphale rolled her eyes and went to the door, handing the note to a stagehand with directions to give it to the man in dark glasses at the front table. Then she turned to Toddy. “Now help me out of this dress.”

Toddy had just settled the wig on the dummy on the vanity. He walked over and made quick work of the fastenings at the back of the dress. Aziraphale felt very much as though she were getting out of one costume and into another as she changed into trousers while Toddy hung up her dress and came back with the long cloth binding.

“There we are, my dear,” said Toddy once he had finished helping Aziraphale bind her breasts. “Not too tight?”

“No. Thank you,” said Aziraphale as she adjusted the cloth minutely. 

“Must be damned uncomfortable though,” added Toddy as he handed Aziraphale her shirt.

Aziraphale gave him a comforting smile. “I’ve worn worse.” Anything was better than panniers, she thought to herself. Crowley had laughed himself silly at the sight of her having to come into a room sideways.

A knock pulled Aziraphale from her memories. It also made her heart do a strange flutter. 

“Ah that must be Mr. Crowley,” said Toddy. That was fast. Aziraphale hadn’t expected Crowley to be able to get away from King so quickly.

Aziraphale’s hands reached to straighten a waistcoat that she wasn’t wearing. No, it was back in London with her bookshop. With a sigh, Aziraphale slipped on her dressing gown over her shirt and trousers. The added bulk helped hide curves she couldn’t as easily bind down. At least Crowley was here. She’d long ago gave up the pretense, at least to herself, that having Crowley around wasn’t enjoyable. He was someone she could really talk to, someone who understood, and he could make things ever so much fun.

Putting a real, warm smile on her face, Aziraphale tried to think of a way to get Toddy out of the dressing room so she and Crowley could talk. Her smile was maybe a little too warm when Toddy opened the door.

King Marchand stood on the other side.

Aziraphale’s smile only stayed in place due to millennia of practice, though it did turn cooler.

“Mr. Marchand,” greeted Aziraphale as politely as she could.

“You wanted to see me?” asked King, holding up her note. “You have lovely handwriting, by the way, Count,” he added, his voice holding a hint of a gibe.

Aziraphale’s smile slipped a fraction more. Why did he have her note? And what was King’s tone about? “Thank you. I pride myself, that is to say, I take great pleasure in fine writing. I-I won’t keep you from enjoying the rest of your evening. I just wanted to give you the information for our fencing match. I found an appropriate venue that’s agreed to let us borrow their equipment.”

King paled at the mention of their upcoming match. Aziraphale had hoped the silly man would just call it off. She could, technically, but she knew King would take that as some sort of ridiculous proof of her gender. Then King gave a slow smile.

“You could have just sent that in your little note,” he said, his smile a Cheshire grin.

Aziraphale gave a flustered huff. “I-well, I wanted to see-” Crowley, she thought, “you-if you were agreeable to the arrangement.” Was it her imagination, or did Crowley tense behind King just then? Oh, this wasn’t going right at all. How did King get the note instead of Crowley? “And I wanted to know if Mr. Crowley was all right. I saw him--slip.”

King cast a glance back at Crowley, who looked all the world like he wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation. “Yeah, Crow’s fine,” said King dismissively. “So, where we gonna do this?”

Aziraphale sighed and snatched a piece of paper off her dresser. “Here, I have it all written down. Are you sure you still want to go through with this?”

“You trying to back out?” asked King with a knowing grin. It made Aziraphale huff.

“If you insist on this silliness, so be it, but whatever happens will be on your head, just so we’re clear.”

“Of course.” He held both sheets of paper up between his fingers. “See you then, Ezra.” The way he said the name flustered Aziraphale even more. Was he actually flirting? Why would he do that? The other night he was angry with Aziraphale because he was attracted to her. Aziraphale stole a glance at Crowley as King was turning. Would he stop time again? She hoped he would.

“See you around, Count, Toddy,” said Crowley with an absent wave of his hand. And then he was gone.

“I think he likes you,” chuckled Toddy once the door was shut. Aziraphale ignored him. Crowley was acting distant and aloof again, but at least he couldn’t disappear on her for decades at a time again. Not if he was on assignment. She gave a resigned sigh. It looked like the only way she was going to see more of Crowley was if she saw more of King. Well, at least now she had a reason to look forward to this ridiculous fencing match.

****

It was when Aziraphale saw the marked floor for fencing at a local university that she balked.

“No, I can’t do this,” she said, turning to Toddy. “This is utterly ludicrous. I’m going to hurt him, and I just can’t stomach that.”

“A little late to back out now, isn’t it?” asked Toddy. “He’s going to be here any minute.”

As if Toddy’s words had summoned him, King strode through the doors then, Crowley trailing after. “Something the matter?” asked King, his voice full of bravado.

“Are you really insisting we go through with this?” Aziraphale asked him. “What if you get hurt?”

“You think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” was King’s reply.

Aziraphale rankled at that and had to reign in the urge to throw caution to the wind and knock the pompous man down any number of pegs. “I know how to fence, you do not. I could hurt you accidentally, and I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course not.” King’s voice was mockingly empathetic and completely patronizing.

“I don’t have to prove myself to you,” snapped Aziraphale, the words sounding far too defensive in her ears, and they only made King smile wider.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” chuckled King, smiling like he’d won. 

That was it. Aziraphale knew she shouldn’t let this man get to her, but his arrogance was driving her up the wall. How did Crowley put up with him? “Fine. Have it your way. But remember, it’s on your head if you get hurt.” With that, she stalked over to the side where several blunt practice swords were set up on mounts and took one down. “Choose your weapon,” she added over her shoulder as she moved to a table of face guards. The instructor here had been ever so accommodating. Aziraphale put both back down and took off her suit coat, handing it to Toddy who was hovering nervously to her left.

“Ezra,” he murmured as she picked the other items back up. 

“What about-” started King softly. He’d come over to the table and was eyeing the chest guards.

“You’re free to put one on if you’d like,” said Aziraphale, pulling the face guard on and checking that it was secure. She knew King would rise to the bait, and he didn’t disappoint. He grabbed a face guard off the table and nothing else. Good. Perhaps she could get by with a few sharp wallops to him and his ego; enough to make him reconsider this foolishness. 

Aziraphale caught Crowley watching her. She nodded in King’s direction. Maybe he could talk some sense into the man. Crowley merely shrugged. Aziraphale held back a heavy sigh and took her position, testing the balance of the foil in her hand. The weight and fit felt familiar. She’d held many different swords over the centuries. She never liked having to use one, but she did find herself missing the feel of one at her side now and again. 

Aziraphale turned to Crowley one more time. He was watching her but then he turned to King. Aziraphale pushed thoughts of Crowley away and faced King. King, for his part, had put on the face guard and emulated Aziraphale’s testing with his own blade. Aziraphale winced and readied herself for what would hopefully be over quickly.

Once they were in place, King didn’t waste any time. He tried a straight forward attack. Aziraphale was easily able to parry and then give him a sharp rap with the flat of her blade on his leg. King let out a yelp and jumped. Aziraphale could just make out Crowley coughing into his fist, his lips curled into a smile. 

“What was that for?” grumbled King, his hand twitching as though he were resisting rubbing where Aziraphale had hit him.

“Point to me,” said Aziraphale cheerily. “Would you like to go again?” she asked, raising her blade and putting her free hand behind her back. King rolled his neck and shoulders and readied himself. 

This time Aziraphale struck first. She darted in under his guard, not that he had any to speak off, gave him a tap on the hand, and poked the blunted tip into his chest for good measure. She grinned at him, though he couldn’t see it through her mask.

“Is that enough for you?” she asked pleasantly.

“I just need a few minutes to get the hang of it,” King muttered.

“I think it’s going to take more than a few minutes.”

That must have set off something in King because he charged again. Aziraphale spun to dodge and thwacked him hard on the backside as she did.

“Olé!” cried Toddy, grinning. 

That did it for Crowley. He let out a guffaw before covering it up with fake coughing. Then there was the clatter of a sword being thrown down. King stomped away from Aziraphale, yanking off the face guard and tossing it aside before storming out without another word. Aziraphale watched him go, heart dropping as Crowley dutifully followed after with barely more than a quick goodbye said in her direction.

“Oh dear,” said Aziraphale softly. “I’ve gone and made a mess of things, haven’t I?”

Toddy came over to her and patted her shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry too much. Our dear Monsieur Marchand seems the type to enjoy a challenge. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Aziraphale tensed. “I have no interest in Monsieur Marchand,” she said sharply.

Toddy gave her a knowing look. “Of course not,” he said. 

“Toddy, I don’t,” Aziraphale insisted.

“Consider the subject thoroughly dropped.” Toddy added a wave of his hand for emphasis. 

“Toddy.”

“All for the best really. What kind of future is there on the arm of an American gangster?” pondered Toddy while he helped Aziraphale back into her coat. “Though it does sound thrilling, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yes, very thrilling,” snipped Aziraphale. “Living every moment in constant fear of being caught, of being found out, of having him ripped away from you...” 

Aziraphale’s heart suddenly started pounding at the idea, her throat going tight as her stomach rolled at the thought.

“Elizabeth?” Toddy touched her elbow gently. 

Aziraphale realized she was clutching at her chest and forced herself to stop and put a smile on her face while waving away his concern. “Just feeling a mite peckish. All this,” she waved around the room. “How about we have a nibble before going to the club?” 

Toddy scanned her face, trying to read the emotions Aziraphale was desperately attempting to bottle back away. They were safe. No one was coming for them. They just happened to be in the same area by accident. Nothing untoward going on. Nothing at all.

Aziraphale hoped that if she kept telling herself that, it would become true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm airing on the side of caution and putting a CW here for this chapter's song's references to addiction.
> 
> [You're Getting to Be a Habit with Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KuITzQJJ5k)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are earning our E rating in this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added Accidental Voyeurism to the tags. As that implies, there is some toeing the line into noncon in this chapter, but ONLY this chapter. If you don't want to read that part you can skip the ten paragraphs after Crowley goes into the bathroom.
> 
> As always thanks to the lovely [chewb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewb/pseuds/chewb) for being my beta. Keep coming for my past participles. I can take it!

Crowley tried his best to cheer King up the rest of the day. He took him down to the racetrack and made sure every horse King bet on won. They went to a new club, but King had no interest in the acts. Crowley even used demonic powers to find him a poker game to join and clean house in. But nothing worked. 

By the time they got back to the hotel, it was late, King’s mood was still sour, and he stalked straight into his bedroom. Crowley was left alone with his thoughts. He knew Aziraphale would be finishing up for the night. Crowley wanted to talk to her. Maybe he could leave a note- 

The thought of notes sent a hot flame of jealousy through him. Crowley tried to brush it off. The angel had just--said she wanted to see King, all flustered and fidgeting. She hadn’t wanted to see Crowley, she wanted to see King. And then she’d made a right fool of him. No wonder King was all twisted up. Crowley knew how it felt, getting mixed signals like that. He’d been getting them for two thousand years at least and was no closer to figuring out what Aziraphale wanted than he had been in Rome.

Crowley went into his room and yanked at his tie, pulling it free and holding it in his hands. Aziraphale had looked good, so strong, so sure of herself with the sword in her hand. Stood to reason. Heaven wouldn’t issue out a flaming sword without making sure an angel knew how to use it, now would they? Crowley wished he could have seen her face. Had she been smiling? She’d sounded like she’d been smiling. Beaming with that hint of bastard she tried to pretend didn’t exist. Crowley missed that smile.

King’s bedroom door opening and shutting pulled Crowley from his thoughts. He stood quietly for a few seconds, waiting to see if King needed him. He heard the man pick up the phone and call the desk. Something about towels. Crowley shrugged. Housekeeping must’ve forgotten to put out fresh ones today. He continued to listen idly while he slipped off his jacket. A door opened and shut; King was going back into his room.

Crowley was in his pajamas by the time he realized housekeeping hadn’t brought up the towels yet. He stepped out of his room and found the door to King’s room open and the man nowhere to be seen. Crowley growled under his breath, and let out a feeler of demonic energy. He was still close, very close. He turned towards the balcony and through the glass doors he could see King in Aziraphale’s room. Crowley blessed in a few dead languages as he headed out the door. When had King even found out about that?

It only took a few minutes to get to Aziraphale’s room. Crowley snapped the lock open and stormed in just as King was rummaging around in a wardrobe. “What do you think you are doing?” barked Crowley.

King jumped and spun around “How did- Nevermind. Help me, I’m looking for proof.”

“Proof? Of what?”

“About Ezra!” huffed King in exasperation. He began to turn back to the wardrobe but Crowley grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

“Why? What will that prove? That either a woman or a gay man made a fool of you today?”

“It’s not that,” growled King, pulling himself free of Crowley’s grasp. “I just need to know!”

Crowley was just about ready to physically haul King out of the room. “It won’t change anything.”

“Yes, it will.”

“No, it won’t,” said Crowley. “Man or woman, you still want him. One just makes it more acceptable.”

“Exactly,” said King with a casual air that was completely betrayed by the tenseness in his shoulders. 

“But if it’s the other, what then? You’ll still want him.”

“No, I won’t,” said King, but there was a tremor of doubt in his voice. Crowley sighed and reached out to put a hand on King’s shoulder. The doorknob to the suite rattled.

Crowley blessed again and hauled King away from the wardrobe, shutting the door. He glanced around for a hiding place and shoved King towards the balcony. The door creaked on its hinges. Crowley dove for an open door. Finding himself in the bathroom he threw himself into a free-standing cabinet and closed the door.

“All I want is a nice, hot bath,” said Aziraphale’s voice, getting louder. 

“Oh, I had one once!” called Toddy. “You’ll love it!”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck! Crowley was going to get caught. There was no way he wasn’t going to get caught. There wasn’t going to be any talking his way out of this one. He could hear Aziraphale shuffling and humming something, then the sound of water running. The door to the cabinet swung open a fraction. Crowley reached out to pull it back, not daring to breathe. Through the crack of light, he had a perfect view of the bathtub, and Aziraphale getting undressed. 

There was a small voice in Crowley’s mind screaming at him that this was wrong, that he should shut the door and try to think of a way out that wouldn’t get him or King caught. Every other part of him was frozen, transfixed.

Aziraphale was already down to her shirtsleeves and braces, more unclothed than Crowley had seen her in several centuries. Her back was to him as she slid the braces off her shoulders. He watched the thin fabric pull taut across her back from the movement. Heat began to pool low in Crowley’s body. Aziraphale was taking off her trousers. Crowley bit into the knuckle of his finger to stifle whatever pathetic, hungry noise was threatening to break loose from his throat.

Alabaster thighs and legs were revealed; still partially covered by loose white pants and socks held up with garters. Aziraphale laid the trousers to the side and propped a foot on a stool to undo her shoes. Crowley swallowed. He was going to see Aziraphale’s ankles. That thought should not send him reeling, but it was. Off went the garters and socks; ankles and calves bared to the world, to Crowley. Then the shirt came off, and Crowley felt lightheaded. He could see her lovely, soft arms could be seen, unobstructed by cloth. Crowley wanted to know the depths of their hidden strength, wanted to feel them hold him, wrap him close. 

Aziraphale was pulling a white vest off over her head. Her back was an expanse of soft-looking skin marred by the binding cloth around her chest. That came off quickly. Crowley’s hand drifted to his trousers, but he caught himself, balling his hand to a fist. He forced himself to ignore the growing throb in his trousers as Aziraphale unknowingly bared herself to him. He would not do that, not here, not now. Crowley knew his resolve would crack and he would touch himself to memories of this for the next several centuries, but he wasn’t going to now. It felt like a breach of Aziraphale’s trust that he would never be able to come back from.

Aziraphale slipped her pants off her hips and stepped out of them. Crowley had to close his eyes at the sight of her plump bottom as she bent over or risk losing all of his shakily held restraint. Maybe he should just stay like that? Probably what he should have been doing from the start.

The sound of water sloshing pried his eyes open. He had never been good at being good, and tonight was not Crowley's night to try and change that. 

Aziraphale was settling into the bath. Her breasts were heavy and round, light pink areolas around pert nipples. They looked so soft. Crowley wanted nothing more than to nestle his head there, breathe in Aziraphale’s scent, kiss the rising swell of them, then take one of those tantalizing nipples into his mouth. What sounds would Aziraphale make? Would they be like the ones when she ate something particularly delectable, or would they be all-new sounds, something different and unknown even after all these centuries?

Toddy snaking his arm around the door and dangling a glass of cognac to Aziraphale broke the spell of the moment, of Aziraphale’s body revealed to Crowley in all its glory. He had to find a way out. A way that didn’t get him caught, preferably.

Aziraphale sipped the cognac then set it to the side and began to soap up her hair. Crowley saw his chance as the angel closed her eyes tight even as his hands itched to be running through those wet curls. Crowley slipped out of the cabinet on silent feet and crept to the door. He paused, peeking around the door to check on Toddy. Toddy was propped up on the bed, already in his pajamas, reading some newspaper. As far as Crowley could tell, the paper was blocking Toddy’s view of the bathroom door. Crowley crouched low and crawled across the bedroom floor. Not his proudest moment, but it was either that or an albeit well-deserved smiting by Aziraphale’s hand. And by Satan’s ball sack he did not need to be thinking about Aziraphale’s hands right now. Yes, Satan’s ball sack, now _that_ was a mood killer.

Crowley didn’t even dare breathe until he was out in the hallway of the hotel. He didn’t dawdle there though, quickly making his way back to his suite. He snapped the door unlocked and went straight for the bar, pouring himself a drink with shaky hands. It wasn’t until the first sip passed his lips that he realized he’d poured himself cognac. He slammed the glass down and leaned heavily against the bar, trying to pull himself together. He needed air; cold, winter night air. He went to the balcony door and had his hand on the knob when he saw King shivering on the balcony across the way. King’s eyes locked on Crowley. Crowley gave a sheepish smile and waved.

Welp, he was fired.

Crowley racked his brain for an idea. Aziraphale was still in the bath. No, don’t think about that, he told himself. Toddy was in the bedroom. The balcony door was in the bedroom. Would Toddy notice? Crowley growled under his breath and grabbed the phone. He didn’t even bother with the hotel operator, he just made the call connect to Aziraphale’s room. One, two, three rings. Four.

“Hello?” asked Toddy’s voice. Crowley blanked out for a second, then started babbling in Italian. It was the first thing that came to his mind. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Crowley just kept going, all the while motioning frantically for King to get off the blessed balcony. King finally got the hint just as Toddy’s patience with Crowley’s terrible Italian was wearing thin. Crowley could just make out King scrambling under the bed when Toddy hung up. Crowley put down the receiver. King was on his own now. He should be able to sneak out from there.

Crowley expected King to be angry when he got in a few minutes later. And the other man did look nearly frozen when he came into the hotel suite still in his eveningwear. But the first words out of King’s mouth weren’t angry. 

“Well? What did you see?” asked King as he made his way to the bar for a drink.

Something in Crowley snapped a little at that. He wasn’t sure why. “A prick. A massive prick,” said Crowley, aiming it right at King.

With that Crowley went to bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to [chewb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewb/pseuds/chewb) for being an amazing beta.

The night sky was an inky backdrop as Aziraphale finally got a chance to do more than glance at Crowley across the hotel courtyard. Crowley had stepped out onto his balcony in the early hours of the morning, the sky black and starless from the lights of Paris. Aziraphale watched him through the gap of the curtains as she pretended to sleep; Toddy snored softly beside her. 

Almost before she thought it, Aziraphale was slipping out of the bed and creeping out into the cold night. She could tell the instant Crowley noticed her presence. She saw it in the way his body tensed the tiniest bit even as he kept his slouch against the banister. He was wearing black silk pajamas under a matching dressing gown that hung from his lean frame. Something about the way the night air caught it made Aziraphale think of ebony wings and she felt a strange pang of loss. It had been so long since she’d seen them. Crowley’s hair was disheveled. Had he been sleeping? Or had he been laying there across the way thinking of how close yet far they-

Aziraphale stopped that dangerous train of thought, but she couldn’t resist giving Crowley a small smile. She may have been smiling since she’d seen him.

Crowley smiled in return, warm and wide and happy. Happy to see her.

Aziraphale felt her heartbeat quicken at the sight. She inclined her head back, beseeching, inviting. Crowley’s whole demeanor changed. He stood straighter, his entire being focused on her. He motioned to himself then to her. Aziraphale nodded and dared to even wave for him to join her.

Crowley launched himself into the air, the movement startling the air from Aziraphale’s lungs out in a gasp. His midnight wings appeared and spread wide as he descended. He landed gingerly on the banister of her balcony, crouched in front of her, wings unfurled behind him. She stared up at him, mouth slightly open in wonder. His golden eyes glowed in the night as they watched her. Then his hand came up and cupped her cheek so tenderly she made a soft noise in the back of her throat at the touch. His thumb brushed across her bottom lip, warm and gentle and tempting.

Toddy’s loud snore woke Aziraphale from her doze. It took her several seconds to find herself, her heart pounding. She’d been dreaming? She’d actually dreamed? Good Lord, what a dream. She looked over to Toddy on the other side of the bed and had the wild urge to smack him for waking her. She held it in and got up from the bed. No more sleeping for her, far too dangerous. 

Aziraphale pulled her dressing gown on over her pajamas. She told herself not to check the window, but did so anyway. Crowley wasn’t there when she gave in. She told herself not to be upset over that, but she couldn’t make herself listen. Aziraphale sighed in annoyance at herself and crept on slippered feet into the living room. She’d sit down with a good book and stop thinking about Crowley. Or about her dream. Or about what a dream like that meant.

Or the bone-deep loneliness she felt at times like this; when the rest of the world around her was asleep and she wanted so desperately for someone, a very specific someone, to pass the hours, eternity, with.

****

Aziraphale felt raw all during rehearsal. She felt like something was cracking inside her, threatening to shatter and let what was inside come crashing out like a tidal wave, destructive and merciless. She knew this because the cracks were already leaking, and she was at a loss for what to do about it. Ignoring it had always worked before. 

Toddy could tell something was amiss. His worried eyes had watched her all during rehearsal and then as she warmed up backstage. Aziraphale knew Toddy assumed her state was over King but she didn’t have the energy to correct him. It didn’t matter anyway, did it? And even if she did correct him, it would only make him want to know what was really wrong. She couldn’t tell him the truth, so letting him believe a fallacy was the easier course of action.

“All right, my dear?” whispered Toddy one last time as Aziraphale was waiting to go on stage.

“Right as rain,” said Aziraphale with a practiced smile. Toddy looked like he was about to say something else, but then it was time to get on stage. Aziraphale took a deep breath and went out in front of the audience. Her eyes drifted over the gathered humans, searching out but not finding dark glasses. She swallowed against her throat and told herself to not think about that right now as the music began.

“I'm a fool to want you.  
I'm a fool to want you.”

Crowley’s smile crossed Aziraphale’s mind. She forced the thought away.

“To want a love that can't be true,  
A love that's there for others too.”

No, don’t think about him.

“I'm a fool to hold you.  
Such a fool to hold you.  
To seek a kiss not mine alone,  
To share a kiss the Devil has known.”

Aziraphale could picture Crowley scoffing at that so easily. No, stop it.

“Time and time again I said I'd leave you.  
Time and time again I went away.  
But then would come the time when I would need you,”

_“Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines, Angel. Only humans do that.”_  
No, stop it. Stop thinking about him.

“And once again these words I'll have to say.  
I’m a fool to want you.  
Pity me, I need you.  
I know it's wrong, it must be wrong,”

_“If my side knew I was fraternizing with a demon-”_

“But right or wrong I can't get along  
Without you.”

_"Fraternizing?!"_

Aziraphale gave a small gasp, covered up by the swell of the music, as her mind reeled. The look on Crowley’s face and the way he had spat out that word. Had that been what had made him so angry all this time? Oh, Good Lord, but she was an idiot.

She barely made it through the reprise of the song. She just kept replaying that moment in her head. It wasn’t the first time Aziraphale had denied their friendship, but that had been more than just denying it, hadn’t it? She had sounded ashamed.

Aziraphale hurried off stage as soon as the song was over, barely remembering to take a bow at all and falling into a polite curtsy. A reflex when wearing skirts. Crowley thought she was ashamed of their friendship which was the farthest thing from the truth. She’d been worried about Crowley’s safety. She had felt she had to say those things. Did Crowley really believe she didn’t care about him? No, she had to fix that. If nothing else, she could tell him that she did care about him very much and that he should never believe what she’s forced to say in public. Looking back, that really should have been something they’d discussed long ago.

Toddy was at her side the second she stepped off stage. “You were magnificent, my dear. Not a dry eye in the house. You must have been amazing in the opera. I wish I could have seen you.”

“That’s very sweet, Toddy,” said Aziraphale, mind elsewhere. She wouldn’t risk writing Crowley again. She still didn’t know how her note had gotten into absolutely the wrong hands, but she wasn’t going to chance it again. She would...she would slip away to the lobby of the hotel and ring up to Crowley’s room. If King answered she’d just hang up and try again. Which, now that she was thinking about it, was what she should have done days ago. She really was an idiot.

Toddy followed Aziraphale into her dressing room and began helping her out of her wig. “André has gotten us a table at Chéz Lui tonight." He said that in a tone that said he hoped that would cheer Aziraphale up. 

Chéz Lui? That was the club she’d met Toddy at. “We can't go there, Toddy. What if Labisse recognizes me?”

“He won’t,” soothed Toddy. “And he owes me a favor anyway.”

“How big a favor?” asked Aziraphale, catching Toddy’s eyes in the mirror. They could get into all sorts of trouble if their little scheme was found out, and poor André would stand to lose a great deal. And Aziraphale wouldn't be able to get them out of any of it.

Though Crowley could. Aziraphale berated herself. She couldn't live her whole existence on the hope—the possibility that Crowley would be there to help out if need be. He hadn't these last few decades, but that had been her fault. And that was another reason to skip out on this whole outing tonight.

Aziraphale realized she hadn't been listening to anything Toddy was saying and came back to the conversation as Toddy said, “I really think it would do you some good. You've been so down lately. This might get your mind off whatever it is. Best thing for it, really. Now, chop chop. Go on and get changed. André said he’d meet us at Chéz Lui.”

She sighed and gave in. She could do this and put Toddy's mind at ease. The apology had waited seventy years, it could wait a few more hours.

****

Crowley once lost a bet to Dagon and had been forced to test out a bed of nails while weights were stacked on top of him. Waiting at Chéz Lui for Aziraphale was somehow worse. 

He hadn’t had a chance to talk to or even see Aziraphale in days, all thanks to King’s little identity crisis. Crowley knew he probably should be more sympathetic to him, but one of the things about being a demon was that he wasn’t supposed to be sympathetic. Which was good because he certainly didn’t feel like it. King’s answer to everything that had happened was to pretend like it never happened, except where he sulked constantly. Crowley had tried to broach the subject a few times. King had shut down every attempt. 

Toddy’s call that afternoon suggesting a certain club as one of the must-see places in Paris had been a welcome surprise. Crowley had spent most of his existence finding ways of tempting humans, so he knew where Toddy was going. Toddy wanted King. He was subtle about it, but it was there all the same. He seemed content to admire from afar though, and was trying to plot a way to do so. And he had spotted Crowley as a willing co-conspirator. 

Toddy was fast becoming Crowley’s new favorite human of the century. 

It had taken a bit of cajoling, and the tiniest bit of demonic temptation, to get King to agree to the outing. Not that much though, King had never been the homebody type. He had wanted to know how Crowley had heard about the place, and Crowley told him from the concierge. He was long past the point of caring if he lied to King, friend or no friend. This was a way to see Aziraphale. He was going to take it.

They’d been at the club for several hours, and King was actually looking like he was relaxing and enjoying himself, when Crowley spotted her. He could tell from the minute shift in Aziraphale’s posture, even from across the room, that she was surprised to see him.

She hadn’t known? Toddy hadn’t told her? Did she not want to see him? Crowley told himself he was being silly. Aziraphale was just surprised, not upset. Though it was hard to miss the accusatory glare she shot Toddy.

Fuck. He’d screwed something up again, hadn’t he? Crowley’s blood turned to ice. Did she know he’d been in the bathroom with her that night? The back of his neck began to sweat. Well, she hadn’t smote him or told him off, yet. That was a good sign, right?

Toddy and Aziraphale were whispering to each other, Aziraphale with her jaw tight. Crowley couldn’t hear them over the band, but they were coming towards King and Crowley’s table. Crowley was on his feet as soon as they were close enough, offering his hand to shake politely and watching Aziraphale’s reactions carefully to gauge just how deep in shit he was with her. He felt more than saw King do the same at his side.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise?” said Toddy as he shook their hands. “Monsieur Marchand. Monsieur Crowley. How have you been?”

Crowley shook Aziraphale’s hand, so soft and warm in his own. Aziraphale gave him a polite smile, one Crowley had seen a million times before. The smile she gave when they were play-acting as strangers. Nothing to give the truth away save the tiniest flicker of acknowledgement in her eyes. Crowley relaxed. They were still good.

“Fine,” said King in a short, clipped tone. Crowley watched as he reined his emotions in. “Would you care to join us?”

“We wouldn’t want to be an imposition,” said Aziraphale, all manners and politeness.

“You wouldn’t be.” King looked just as surprised as Crowley felt that those words had come out of his mouth, but he didn’t take them back.

“And we’re interrupting the show,” said Toddy pointedly, steering Aziraphale to the empty chair next to King. That put Toddy next to Crowley. 

Wait a second. Was Toddy trying to- King and-

Nope. Toddy just lost his favorite human status. 

Crowley grabbed his drink and threw it back. His fingers itched to do something about the situation. Visions of slipping away and coming back in his snake form came to mind; scare everyone off. Aziraphale would give him a telling off for that, but at least they’d be alone for it.

He should have just found a way to get Aziraphale alone before now. Why hadn’t he? Because he felt guilty, not a good look for a demon. He was also afraid. There hadn’t been a moment since that night that Crowley’s mind hadn’t wandered back to it. If he had gotten Aziraphale alone, he would have either confessed to peeping, or confessed something even worse. He knew he was being a coward. He should fess up to Aziraphale, let the angel give him the silent treatment for another decade, and then they’d be all right again. He hoped.

Crowley was pulled from these thoughts by a man coming onto the stage. There was something pinched about his face that made Crowley think of things he’d eaten on his snakier days.

“Madams and Monsieurs,” the man started. “We are very fortunate to have the wonderful Count Ezra Grazinski with us tonight.”

Crowley couldn’t help but glance over at Aziraphale. He hoped he could get a subtle, teasing smile in, and then Aziraphale would give him an annoyed frown that wasn’t all that annoyed really. But what he saw was Aziraphale giving Toddy a worried look.

“Perhaps _she_ -I mean he could be convinced into regaling us with a song?” continued the rodent man.

“He knows,” hissed Aziraphale to Toddy, mostly muffled under the din of encouraging applause, only audible to Crowley because of his demonic hearing. 

Oh.

“He’s guessing,” Toddy replied as he stood and urged Aziraphale onto her feet. The applause became louder and Aziraphale stood. The pair passed behind Crowley and Aziraphale stumbled, grabbing Crowley’s shoulder for balance. Crowley’s heart sped up at the touch so much he almost missed it. Three quick taps of Aziraphale’s finger.

Over the several millennia of their existence they had come up with a few different ways of getting across that one needed to talk to the other. This was one of them.

Crowley only had time to look up at Aziraphale over the rim of his glasses and hope she understood. Aziraphale met his eyes, her own warm as she looked down at him.

“So sorry,” she said, letting him go and following Toddy to the front of the club.

Ok. So Aziraphale wanted to talk; wanted it enough to use a code to get his attention. Now he just had to slip King and do that.

“Perhaps an old, _English_ tune?” said the host with a grin that bordered on a sneer.

Crowley didn’t know the whole story, but he didn’t care. If this guy bothered Aziraphale, Crowley would make sure the rest of his life and what came after was Hell.

Toddy took Aziraphale straight to the piano and made the pianist budge over. Toddy sat down with a flourish as Aziraphale leaned over to whisper to him. The spotlight lit up her hair, almost like a halo. Crowley shook off that mush and waved a waiter over for another drink. Then the music started.

The first notes of the piano squeezed Crowley’s heart. He forced himself to show no emotion as Aziraphale began to sing.

“That certain night, the night we met  
There was magic abroad in the air,  
There were angels dining at the Ritz,  
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.”

Every time he heard this song it tore into his chest and tried to lay him bare. Berkeley Square, Mayfair, an angel sitting across the table; Satan, how Crowley had missed that. Talking and walking through one park or another, always under the guise of the Arrangement, but it didn’t matter to Crowley. He even missed Soho of all things, especially one certain bookshop. 

And now that beguiling angel was singing the blasted song. Standing there in her dinner wear, sharp and appealing, all makeup gone but that didn’t make a difference. Crowley was still enthralled by her eyes and lips. Always had been. And that cute, upturned nose. Shouldn’t be legal, a nose like that. Or maybe it was just that particular nose in general? Stupid song, making him all soppy.

As if Aziraphale could hear his thoughts, her eyes landed on him. Crowley felt his ears burn in embarrassment.

“The streets uptown were paved with stars,  
It was such a romantic affair.  
And as we kissed and said goodnight,  
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.”

He wished. Crowley wished so hard, for hundreds, thousands of years that he could do or say the right thing so the angel would finally throw caution to the wind for once. Hadn’t happened yet, but Crowley was nothing if not determined, or pathetic. It was hard to tell some days.

A group of humans entered, loudly, just as the final notes were being played. Aziraphale glanced at them, leaving Crowley feeling strangely cut loose, and her gaze darkened. One of the men, a tall fellow whose good looks were greatly diminished by the bandage on his nose, caught sight of Aziraphale, then Toddy. Recognition and injured pride were obvious on him. Crowley was trying to figure out what that meant. Hadn’t Aziraphale mentioned something about Toddy and a man? Whatever it was, Crowley was more than willing to cause a little mischief. So when the party started walking towards a free table, cutting in between Aziraphale and the rest of the room, Crowley stretched out his leg. Bandage Human tripped right over him, landing flat on his face.

Crowley wasn’t sure exactly what happened after that. People tried to help the guy up, Aziraphale included. Crowley thought he saw Bandage Human throw a punch at Aziraphale. He missed, but Aziraphale didn’t, popping him right on the bandage. Crowley cackled as the man went backwards into a table, smashing it and sending drinks flying. 

After that things devolved into a good, old-fashioned bar brawl. 

Crowley would have loved to have joined in, but his job was seeing that King was safe. But King was wading into the fray. Crowley grinned and followed after him, getting a few good licks in along the way. 

King found Aziraphale first, clamping his arm on her shoulder. Aziraphale spun around and threw a punch right in King’s face, sending the bigger man back several steps.

“Oh!” exclaimed Aziraphale once she realized what she’d done. “I’m so sorry.”

King waved her worry off, though he was holding his nose. Then he grabbed her by the wrist and started for the door. Crowley fell into step behind them, but then Aziraphale’s worried blue eyes scanned the room. They landed on Crowley.

“I don’t see Toddy,” she said over the din of the ruckus. “Find him. Keep him safe.”

Crowley only had time to nod before King pulled Aziraphale out of the club to safety. Crowley could hear sirens outside. Perfect.

It didn’t take long for Crowley to find Toddy, his hair, face, and white shirt and tie stained with red wine.

“Stopped for a drink?” asked Crowley as he took hold of Toddy’s arm.

“Château Haut-Brion 1926,” replied Toddy. “Seemed a shame to let it go to waste.”

Crowley barked out a laugh and led the other man out of the club. They were stopped by one officer on the way. Crowley pulled out a wad of bills that had sprung into existence at that moment in the inner breast pocket of his jacket and stuck them inside the officer’s coat. “You didn’t see us, did you?” he asked with a slight demonic nudge. The officer turned and left them alone.

“How much money did you just give him?” asked Toddy as they slipped down an alley away from the club and the police.

“I don’t know; a couple thousand francs,” said Crowley absently. He was seeking out the trace he had on King and following it. He heard Toddy give out a gasp, but ignored it.

“Where are we going?” asked Toddy as they kept walking.

“I think King and A-Ezra went this way.”

In fact they were close. Crowley crossed a street and went down another alley. He came to the edge of the building. The street lamp cast him into deep shadow between the buildings. He took one look at what was before him, turned on his heel, and started away. Anger boiled inside him, but was quickly doused by cold loneliness and despair. 

One image was burned into his mind; King with Aziraphale in his arms, his hand cradling her head, her fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket, and their lips pressed together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs used in this chapter were:
> 
> [I'm a Fool to Want You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpNw9-VRZNc) and [A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixMfmWrBEgs).


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to [chewb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewb/pseuds/chewb) for being a wonderful beta and also cheerleader.

The wail of police sirens closing in did little to console Aziraphale as she let King lead her away from the club. The idea of running from the authorities didn’t sit well with her on principle, but neither did getting arrested in Paris, again. Crowley would never let her hear the end of it.

Thinking of Crowley made Aziraphale glance back in search of him and Toddy, but she saw no one. She would have to hope they were back at the hotel when she and King got there.

King’s steps finally slowed when they were a couple of streets away. They stopped on a quiet side street lit by one street lamp. It cast everything around them into such deep shadows it gave the little spot a feeling of isolation. Just the two of them here in this pocket of space. 

King, who still had Aziraphale’s wrist in his hand, turned to her. “Are you all right?”

“Quite all right, thank you. And you? How’s your nose?” Aziraphale instinctively reached up to miracle away any injury, but then stopped, her hand hovering near his face before she pulled away. “Excuse me.”

“I’m fine,” said King softly, watching her with the expression of someone having a mental debate.

“I’m glad. And I do apologize.” Aziraphale brushed at the lapels of King’s jacket, smoothing them out as best she could as she spoke. “You startled me, is all. I’d be ever so upset if I’d hurt you.” Aziraphale glanced back up at King. He was still staring at her, but as she watched, his expression turned to one of decision and determination.

“I don’t care if you are a man,” King declared before taking Aziraphale in his arms. She didn’t have time to even process his words before his mouth was laying claim to hers. His fingers carded through her hair to cup her head and his other hand was at the small of her back, pulling her close. Aziraphale was startled into compliance for a few seconds, her mind reeling at how wrong it all was. Chest too broad, arms too thick, the wrong cologne, and a hundred other things that just screamed, No, loudly in her head.

Aziraphale pushed at King’s chest, gently but firmly, prying him away from her. “I’m not interested,” she said once there was space between them. 

“What?” asked King, sounding shocked. He had yet to let her go.

“I’m very flattered, but I don’t return your feelings.”

King’s arms dropped and stepped back away from her. “You-you,” he ran his hands through his hair, his face going pale, then red. “Do you have any idea what I just did?”

“You kissed me. And as I said, I’m flattered, but-”

“I kissed you!” snapped King, storming back those few steps to loom over her angrily. “And now you’re just saying, ’Thanks but no thanks?’”

“That is the long and the short of it,” replied Aziraphale. She straightened her waistcoat and watched the man turn nearly purple with indignation. “If I ever gave the impression that I had feelings towards you, I do apologize. That was never my intent.”

“Never your… Then what was your goddamn intent?! You can’t just do this to me and-”

“I have done nothing to you except try to be polite. And I would like to add, sir, that you make that near impossible. You are insufferable, intolerable, entitled, and an egotist.” Aziraphale took a deep breath and a step back before she got really riled up. “Good evening.” With that, she turned from King and walked away. 

“Now wait just a minute!” King’s footsteps sounded behind Aziraphale. She spun around and glared icily at him as he reached out towards her.

“If you attempt to put your hands on me again, Mr. Marchand, then we will have a repeat of what happened in the club a few minutes ago. And I would like to add that I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone then.” Aziraphale stared King down until he dropped his hand to his side. “I think it best we part ways here. Good evening,” she said again, more firmly this time.

King did not try to follow her again.

* * *

Crowley had the composure of someone trying desperately to hold himself together as he led Toddy out of the alleyway. Almost the second they were on the main street again a taxi pulled up in front of them. Toddy hadn’t seen Crowley flag it down, nor had he even heard the car before it had arrived. But he had to admit, he hadn’t been paying attention to cars.

The tall, lean man opened the door for him, and Toddy nodded a polite thanks before getting inside. He gave the cabbie the name of their hotel as Crowley climbed inside. The cabbie looked around as if disoriented for a few seconds but then nodded. A heavy silence fell over them as the taxi started to move. Toddy let it hang there; the back of a cab wasn’t the place to come apart in. Poor man. How long had he been in love with King?

The taxi had barely stopped moving before Crowley was opening the door and climbing out. He threw money into the front seat. Toddy knew it had to be more than the fare simply due to how many bills there were. The driver didn’t argue though. He drove away before anything could be said.

Toddy went with Crowley through the lobby and up the elevator. As the doors opened on their floor, Toddy put his hand on Crowley’s elbow. “I’ve got booze in my room, and it might be best not to be in yours when…” 

Crowley gave a shudder and a sharp intake of air as Toddy’s words registered. He nodded and Toddy led the way to his hotel room. The second the door was unlocked, Crowley pushed his way inside and made a bee-line for the wet bar. Toddy watched Crowley as he followed him to the bar. Crowley poured a liberal glass of brandy and offered it to Toddy who took it with thanks. Crowley then proceeded to drink straight from the decanter.

“Here now!” exclaimed Toddy, taking the bottle. “None of that.” 

Crowley snarled in response and snatched the glass out of Toddy’s hand. Toddy let him have it and poured himself a drink. Crowley moved to the couch, falling onto it in an artful heap. Toddy couldn’t help but smile appreciatively against the rim of his glass. Here was a man who knew how he moved and used it. Toddy dared to wonder if there was a chance of him getting to enjoy it someday.

Toddy walked over to the couch and sat opposite Crowley. Time to get this out in the open. “How long have you been in love with him?”

Crowley stiffened in his drape on the couch but then relaxed again. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“I may be getting old, but I’m not blind.”

“You’re not old,” replied Crowley, obviously trying to deflect.

“That’s kind of you to say.”

“...’m not kind.”

Toddy almost laughed at the petulant mumble. “I know that look. The look of having to watch the one you love with someone else. Been there enough times,” he added glumly before taking a large sip of his drink. The alcohol burned away the sour taste the memory left in his mouth.

Crowley grumbled something Toddy couldn’t catch as he leaned back and rubbed his eyes under his dark glasses. Toddy realized he’d never seen the man without them.

“Does the light bother you?” he asked with polite curiosity. 

Crowley dropped his hand and turned to Toddy. “Uh-no. They just look weird. Bothers people.”

“Oh, well now I’m intrigued. Do you mind?”

“You won’t like what you see.”

Toddy waved his words away. “If I can look at myself in the mirror after a two-day bender, nothing can bother me. Let’s see.”

Crowley let out a wry chuckle. “Why not? Night can’t get any worse.” With one fluid motion, he pulled the glasses off and regarded Toddy with a questioning stare. 

Toddy hadn’t been expecting what he saw. Golden yellow and slit-pupiled, Crowley’s eyes barely looked human. “Well, you weren’t kidding.”

“No, I wasn’t,” said Crowley. He moved to slip the glasses back on but Toddy caught his hand to stop him.

“I didn’t say they bothered me.” Toddy watched Crowley raise an eyebrow. “All right, they do, a bit. But I’m sure I’ll get used to them.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because I like you. Because I think we could be friends.” Toddy leaned towards Crowley and moved his hand to Crowley’s knee. “And perhaps we could become more than friends? I know I’m not much of a consolation, but I am here and willing.”

Those strange eyes darted between Toddy’s face and his hand. After several seconds, Crowley took hold of Toddy’s hand and gently removed it from his leg.

“If this had happened a few weeks ago…” Crowley sighed heavily. “But I know you now, and I can’t. You’re an all right bloke and you deserve better than a pathetic old demon like me pretending you’re someone else.”

Crowley hadn’t let go of his hand yet. Toddy pushed on and scooted closer. “Even if that’s what I want?”

“You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved. I want you to find that.”

Toddy felt the heat from Crowley’s hand seep into him, but instead of fanning interest, it settled in his chest and made him feel warm and content. 

Crowley was just letting go of his hand when the door opened.

“Toddy? Are you-”

“Angel,” gasped Crowley and stood abruptly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Toddy turned and saw Elizabeth standing in the doorway of the room, her eyes flicking between him and Crowley before finally settling on Crowley. The sudden tension in the room was palpable.

Things started clicking in Toddy’s mind. Elizabeth watching Crowley that first night while he was dancing with Norma, her chatting with him on the balcony, singling him out at the club… She’d never said a word about Crowley, but now that was speaking louder than if she had.

“Oh.” Toddy cleared his throat and stood. He’d read the situation entirely wrong. He must be losing his touch. Elizabeth and Crowley remained silent, staring at each other from across the room. Toddy sighed and headed for the door. As he brushed past Elizabeth, he said softly, “He’s all yours, my dear. Sorry for the mixup.” With that, he slipped out of the room and shut the door.

In the hallway, Toddy ran a hand through his hair and muttered wryly, “Well, you made a fool of yourself in there.”

He doubted going back into his room was an option for the night, but he didn’t have a plan as he walked towards the elevator. He was running through the very short list of people he knew with available couches when the elevator doors opened to reveal King. 

“Oh, excuse me,” said Toddy, stepping to the side to let the other man out. “And how are we this evening?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said King gruffly as he passed Toddy. The man’s face was a mix of dark anger and confusion. Toddy could guess the cause.

“Ah well, good evening then.”

Toddy was about to step onto the elevator when King said, “Who does he think he is anyway?”

Toddy paused, then shook his head at the elevator operator. The uniformed man nodded and the doors closed. Toddy turned to King and smiled politely. “How about we move this to your room and you tell Uncle Toddy all about it?”

King frowned. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he repeated.

“Yell about it then if you’d rather, but no one will appreciate you doing so in the hallway. Lead on.”

With a resigned slump of his shoulders, King agreed and showed Toddy to his suite.

“Has Ezra gotten back yet?” he asked hesitantly as he unlocked the door and let Toddy in.

“Yes, just a few minutes ago. I take it things are not getting on well between the two of you?”

King’s jaw clenched as he took a deep breath through his nose. “You wanna know what happened tonight?” He shut the door with a slam. I’ll tell you. I kissed him. I _kissed_ him! Even though I knew it was a bad idea, against… _everything_ inside me telling me that I was better off not opening that Pandora’s Box, I kissed him. And do you know what happened?”

“I’m guessing he turned you down,” said Toddy though he knew Elizabeth must have, or she wouldn’t be back in their room and he wouldn’t be standing here listening to someone else dying of love for her. He knew from firsthand experience that Elizabeth was a wonderful person, but would it kill her to save a few men for him?

“He turned me down!” King nearly bellowed, running his hands through his hair. Toddy put on a gentle smile and walked over to the wet bar. He could feel King watch him, then the other man joined him. Toddy poured and passed a glass to him. 

“That’s never a good feeling,” said Toddy compassionately.

“He has no idea what I-” King cut himself off and threw back the liquor. The hand holding the glass shook as he put it down. “Shit. I-I kissed a man.”

“Did you enjoy it?” asked Toddy before taking a sip of his drink. 

King’s eyes cut to him darkly and he looked like he was about to yell, but then said in a low voice, “I was panicked, terrified, I thought I was about to vomit. And I fucking loved it.” He growled the last out like it hurt him to say it.

Toddy gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was horrible! Do you have any idea what it’s like to-” King stopped himself. “I guess you would.” He leaned heavily on the bar. “What do I do now?”

“Buy yourself something lacy and naughty. I’ll help you with your makeup.” The panicked blanch on King’s face almost made Toddy sorry he said it. “I’m joking; unless you like that sort of thing.” He gave King a second to relax before continuing. “What you do now is whatever you want. You can explore this side of yourself, or you can pretend tonight never happened. I’m not going to force you to embrace it. This,” he motioned to himself, “takes years to perfect.”

King gave a soft snort of a laugh. “I don’t think-” He started to gesture up and down at Toddy but stopped. “Shit. What happened to you?”

Toddy looked down at the wine stains on his clothes. He had completely forgotten about them, which now that he thought about it was odd. His clothes were still damp and it was near freezing outside but he hadn’t been the least bit cold. But now that his attention was drawn to it, he was getting uncomfortable.

“You must be freezing,” said King. “Let me get you something to wear.” He started for a door across the room. “What were you doing in the hallway like that? And where the hell is Crow? He was supposed to make sure you got back here safely.”

“Oh, he did,” said Toddy as King went into the other room. He took a few steps towards the door himself until he could see King rummaging in the wardrobe. Toddy shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket. 

“Then where the hell is he?” called King.

“Uh, busy.”

King came out of the room holding out a dry shirt, a frown on his face. “Busy? With what?”

“Let’s just say you weren’t the only one captivated by dear Ezra’s charms.”

Toddy watched his words sink in, and then King’s face turned positively purple. “That rat! That backstabbing-” 

Toddy stepped between King and the door before he could even make a move for it and put his hand on the other man’s broad chest. “Neither one of them is somewhere they don’t want to be. Trust me. I may have been off the mark about Ezra and you, but there was no mistaking the sparks I saw between the two of them.”

After several tense seconds, King’s shoulders slumped in resignation and he nodded. If Toddy’s hand lingered a second too long, King didn’t seem to notice. “And since we’re on the subject, would it be too much of an imposition to borrow your couch for the night?”

King heaved a heavy sigh. “Take Crow’s room. Doesn’t sound like he’ll be needing it tonight. I’ll get you something to sleep in.” There was still anger in his voice, but also acceptance.

“You don’t have to go to any trouble,” said Toddy automatically.

“No.” King put the shirt in Toddy’s hands. “Thanks for-for talking to me, for listening.”

Toddy gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Anytime.”

King’s lips twitched, not in a grin but an acknowledgment. He turned back to what must be his bedroom but stopped at the door. “So, you thought Ezra was interested in me too?”

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t be interested in you,” said Toddy with a grin and a wink. His grin widened a fraction at the sight of pink blooming on King’s face. The other man ducked into the room and came out a few minutes later with a set of pajamas. 

“I feel like such an idiot,” said King as he handed the clothes to Toddy. “Just-what was I thinking?”

Toddy gave a nonchalant shrug. “Ah, ‘If thou rememb’rest not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not loved.’”

To Toddy’s delighted shock, King replied with, “‘Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, wearying thy hearer in thy mistress’s praise, thou hast not loved.’”

Toddy gasped and placed a hand over his fluttering heart. “You know your Shakespeare!”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” chuckled King, that pink returning to his face.

“Pleasantly, I assure you. You are a man of many surprises, Mr. Marchand.”

“Call me King.” His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember. Is Toddy short for anything?”

“Carole Todd, though in my younger days my very best friends called me ‘Hot Toddy.’” King chuckled at the joke and Toddy was glad to hear it. “Now, promise me you won’t do anything foolish while I go tidy up.”

King held up his hands in defeat. “I promise. I know when I’m not wanted, now at least.” Toddy nodded and turned for the other bedroom door. From behind him, he heard a grumbled, “Just wish I knew when I _was_ wanted.”

Toddy stopped at the bedroom’s threshold. He debated with himself to say what had immediately sprung to mind. He licked his lips nervously before turning back to King. “Now. You’re wanted now. But I won’t be insulted if it isn’t mutual.”

King stared at him for a stunned second, then looked away, clearing his throat. Toddy gave him an understanding smile to cover up the slight pang of rejection. What had he expected to happen?

“I don’t know,” said King, his voice hesitant and unsure. “I-I honestly hadn’t even thought past-I just knew I wanted to kiss him. So, I don’t know if...” He let his words trail off, looking lost.

“I wouldn’t mind being kissed,” dared Toddy, taking a step towards King. “It’s been a damned long time since I’ve been kissed.”

King stared at Toddy, nervous tension in his body. Then he was sudden movement, stalking towards Toddy with purpose. Toddy dropped the pajamas and welcomed King into his arms. King’s mouth was demanding and hard against his own, his strong hands holding Toddy’s head still. This kiss had something to prove, a question that needed answering. Toddy relaxed into the kiss and let King do as he pleased. The sensation of hot lips sent sparks down his spine. As the bruising pressure lessened, Toddy didn’t want it to end but resolved himself not to fight it; but the hard press of mouth to mouth did not stop, only gentled. Soft brushes of warmth that fired tingles of pleasure. King’s hands slid around him, wrapping him in his arms. Toddy felt himself sinking into the kiss, melting into the heat of King's body pressed against him.

When the kiss ended they were both panting, Toddy felt a little unsteady on his feet due to the severe lack of blood flow to his brain. King looked dazed.

"Not a fluke," he husked, obviously shaken.

Toddy bit back a laugh. He leaned in and kissed King softly on his cheek, the corners of their mouths brushing in the act. "Goodnight," he said against the cheek already growing rough with stubble.

King nodded. "Yeah. Yes. Good-” he cleared his throat, “-goodnight."

Toddy made himself step out of King's embrace. He stooped to pick up the discarded pajamas and discreetly enjoyed the view before standing again. “And thank you for letting me stay tonight.”

“You’re welcome. You’re-” King cleared his throat again, “‘very welcome.” King turned abruptly and headed for his bedroom. Toddy watched him go, a pleased smile on his face.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to the lovely [chewb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewb/pseuds/chewb) for beta'ing this for me.
> 
> TW BIG TIME in this chapter for mentions of suicidal thoughts. I will add it to the tags, but also wanted to warn you all here.

“Angel!” 

Crowley all but jumped off the couch, a guilty expression plain on his face. A face that wasn’t wearing his sunglasses; they were clutched in his hand. His uncovered eyes wouldn’t meet Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale glanced at Toddy, then back to Crowley. He’d taken off his glasses for Toddy? That stirred something cold and ugly in Aziraphale’s chest. 

“Oh.” Toddy cleared his throat and stood. Aziraphale kept her eyes on Crowley. What had been going on here? 

Toddy gave a sigh and started towards her. He didn’t stop once he got to her but continued on. As he passed, he said softly, “He’s all yours, my dear. Sorry for the mixup.” And then he was gone and she and Crowley had the room to themselves. 

They were alone, Aziraphale’s mind so helpfully supplied. They were finally alone. But instead of the figurative pages of things she’d mentally rehearsed to say to him when they finally could have some privacy, the first thing to come out of her mouth was a terse, “Were you tempting Toddy just now?”

“Whu?” was Crowley’s eloquent defense. 

“That’s really uncalled for. Do I go around trying to save your friends?”

“I don’t want to think about what you've been doing with my friends,” spat back Crowley. He grabbed a glass off the end table beside him, saw it was empty, and growled at the glass. “You’ve been doing a lot of things with King. Too many… _things_.”

Aziraphale’s brows furrowed. What was Crowley upset over now? He could be so mercurial. She’d been the one to walk in on Crowley trying to perform a temptation on Toddy with those hypnotizing, liquid-gold eyes of his. “I didn’t think you cared. You’ve barely-”

“Of course I bloody care, Angel!” Crowley replied sharply, cutting off Aziraphale’s words. His eyes had lost all white. “I’ve always cared.”

“There’s no reason to have a hissy-fit over it. Nor is that any reason to go playing with Toddy’s feelings like that. I won’t have it.”

Crowley’s lips pulled back into a snarl. His teeth were looking sharper than normal. It made Aziraphale’s heart speed up, but not with fear. She could never fear Crowley. “Playing with his feelings? What about playing with mine?”

“Crowley, you’re not making any sense. Are you drunk?”

Crowley looked down at the glass in his hand. “Wish I was. Drunk hurts less.”

Aziraphale had not been expecting that and was completely lost now. “Hurt? What do you mean? Did something happen to you at the club?” She raked her eyes over him as she crossed the distance between them, checking him for injuries. She had her hands cupping his face before she remembered she couldn’t perform miracles. 

Crowley swayed as if he’d been struck, his eyes closing at her touch. “I can still smell him on you.”

Aziraphale’s face burned at Crowley’s words. She pulled away from him in surprise before shaking herself. “If you are implying what I-”

“King! I can still smell him on you! Do you ever-” Crowley let out a strangled groan. “You tell me you want to meet, but then you run off with-” He shook his head angrily and flicked his glasses open. Aziraphale ached to snatch the glasses from his hand, to make him keep his eyes uncovered. He’d let Toddy see them. Why not her? They’d known each other infinitely longer.

“Can’t blame him,” Crowley continued as the glasses hid his eyes. “You are gorgeous on stage.”

Aziraphale felt her cheeks burn again. “T-thank you. That’s sweet of you to say, but I think there's been- ”

“Always gorgeous. Always have been.” 

Crowley’s voice had become soft, dreamlike. It made Aziraphale’s heart flutter in her chest. “Crowley, I think-”

“Guess I should take what I can get, huh? If you’re with him, you can’t run away from me again.”

“Would you stop interrupting,” huffed Aziraphale sharply. Crowley closed his mouth with an audible click. “That’s better. Now, I believe you’re under the misguided assumption that I’m romantically and or physically involved with King?”

“Uh. Misguided?”

“Yes. King I can understand being mistaken; his ego’s far too large to imagine someone not being attracted to him. But you? I would think you’d know me better than that.”

“So you’re not… But I saw you two.” Crowley’s voice was a mix of confusion and accusation.

“You saw King kiss me?” asked Aziraphale. Crowley nodded. “I can assure you, my dear, that it was entirely one-sided.”

“You mean he...you... Fuck! Angel, I’m sorry. I never would have left you alone with him if I’d known.”

Crowley had stepped closer, his hands reaching out as if to check her for injury. He stopped just shy of doing so. Aziraphale felt a wash of yearning desire to bridge the tiny gap between them, to let him put his hands on her.

No, Aziraphale told herself, that could not happen. She wanted to clear the air about their argument all those years ago. There couldn't be anything else. She waved off Crowley’s frown of concern. “I’m perfectly capable of handling a lothario.”

Crowley gave a soft chuckle that sounded just a tad forced. “No one uses ‘lothario’ anymore, Angel. They use ‘masher’ in the states.”

Aziraphale wrinkled her nose. “I refuse.”

Crowley laughed again. A full-throated thing this time, and some of the tension in the room eased. Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief. 

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Crowley sauntered over to the wet bar to refill his glass. “Want one?”

“Yes. I think I do,” said Aziraphale, taking a seat on the couch. This was good. This was some semblance of the status quo returning. Now all that was needed was to get her traitorous emotions back under control. 

Crowley came back a moment later with two glasses and handed one to her. Aziraphale looked up at him as he did and found herself annoyed that he still had his glasses on. “You weren’t trying to tempt Toddy, were you?”

Crowley took a seat on the opposite side, draping his arm on the couch. His long fingers could almost brush her shoulder. “I haven’t forgotten our agreement after the Leo incident, so no. If anyone was trying to do a bit of tempting, it was Toddy.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale could believe that perfectly well. Toddy could be an incorrigible flirt when he wanted to be. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

“‘S fine. Now stop dilly-dallying and tell me what you wanted to say or I’m going to start thinking you just missed my company.” He gave her a sly grin and Aziraphale felt her heart pound at the sight.

“I did,” said Aziraphale, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Of course I did. I’ve missed you for most of a century, you silly demon.”

Crowley made a strangled, acknowledging sound and took a long sip of his drink before replying. “I-I missed you too, Angel. Shit. I should never have let it get to me like that. I just-”

Aziraphale dared to put her hand on Crowley’s, squeezing gently. Crowley sputtered to a stop. “No. That was my fault. I said things badly, very badly. I realize that now. I was just so shocked and worried for you that I panicked-” Aziraphale shook her head. “No, no excuses. I never meant to make you think that our friendship wasn’t important to me, or that I was in any way ashamed of it, of you. I just-I reacted poorly, and I hope you can forgive me.”

“You really mean that?” 

Aziraphale couldn’t tell because of the dark glasses, but it looked like Crowley was staring at her hand on his. Aziraphale felt her face flush and she pulled away. “Of course I do.”

Crowley’s hand balled into a fist on the back of the couch. “Don’t buy it.” He threw himself off the couch and walked over to the window looking out over the courtyard.

Aziraphale took a steadying breath, folding her hands together in her lap around the glass. “I deserve that, but I do mean it. Our friendship means everything to me, that’s why I panicked when I thought you wanted-”

“I’m only going to say this once, Angel,” said Crowley darkly. He’d turned back to her and even through the glasses, she could feel his gaze pinning her down. “The _only_ time I’ve ever wanted to use holy water on myself was after you walked away that day.”

Aziraphale bowed her head, her hands tightening on the glass just shy of shattering it. She deserved that. She’d hurt him. She’d hurt them both. She deserved his vitriol, his rage. She’d hurt her best friend, her dearest friend, the being she loved most. Yes, she loved him. Dear God in Heaven, did she love him. Ignoring that fact, pretending it wasn’t true hadn’t worked. The feeling hadn’t gone away. So she had to accept it and force it back into its box in her heart.

“I’m sorry,” came out raw and weak against a throat closing up from emotion. Tears stung at her eyes, blurring her vision. “I’m so sorry.”

Crowley was silent for a long stretch of time. When Aziraphale finally gathered up enough courage to look at him again, she found him sitting on the floor, his knees up, elbows propped on them, glass dangling from the fingers of one hand, and the others tight in his hair. The very tableau of a tortured soul.

“Why do we keep doing this to each other?” husked Crowley, head down. “Maybe you were right. Maybe this hereditary enemy thing--maybe it’s too strong.”

“No!” said Aziraphale in a gasped breath. She was in front of him in a second, drink slipping forgotten from numb fingers. She was on her knees and pressing forward into his space, between his legs. She cupped his face and he let out a shuddering breath. “No. I won't lose you again, Crowley. Do you hear me?” She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. “Be mad at me all you want. Punish me. I’d rather have that a thousand times over than not have you at all.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and held on, fisting his hands in her coat. Aziraphale breathed in the scent of him; under his cologne was something dark and tempting, indescribable as anything other than Crowley. Aziraphale filled her lungs with it, filled her entire being. This was the scent of home.

“I'm so sorry,” husked Aziraphale into Crowley's ear, barely resisting the urge to tuck her face into the crook of his neck. 

* * *

Tonight had been too much for Crowley. He was emotionally wrung out, listless, with Aziraphale the only thing holding him upright. 

Aziraphale. Holding him.

Crowley’s mind reeled. He couldn’t remember the last time Aziraphale was this openly affectionate to him; never sounded about right. She was always too afraid of getting caught.

“You’ll never lose me, Angel,” said Crowley weakly into the collar of Aziraphale’s jacket. “You’re stuck with me whether you want me or not.”

“I want you.” Aziraphale’s voice was a ghost of warm air against his ear.

It took several seconds for Aziraphale’s words to sink in. Crowley forced himself to remain calm. Aziraphale hadn’t meant that. She couldn’t have meant it like that. He tried to shift in her arms, face her without leaving her embrace completely. Aziraphale held him fast against her, pressing her face into his shoulder.

“I want-for so long I-but I shouldn’t. I _can’t._ ”

Crowley’s heart thudded, practically reverberating inside him. “I know. Doesn’t change anything. I’m still here. If this is all we can ever have, then I’ll take it.”

No matter how Aziraphale had meant what she said, it didn’t change that. He’d take whatever scraps of affection Aziraphale would or could give him and treasure them.

“All we can ever have.” Her voice sounded like his heart felt, broken open and bleeding. Then Crowley felt a shift in Aziraphale, the steel returning under the soft exterior. She straightened, pulling away from him just enough to be face-to-face with him. “All we can ever have is tonight.”

Crowley’s stubborn heart leapt to wild conclusions. Right or wrong, he took a gamble. “Like I said, I’ll take it. Pretty hopele-”

Aziraphale’s lips were on his, soft and warm and sweet. They slid along his lips and pulled a wanting, needy keen up from his chest. Crowley was gone. He was past keeping his cool, past playing the aloof one. He tightened his arms around Aziraphale, his hands finding her hair as he wrapped his legs around her. Begging. His body was begging her for more and he couldn’t care less because she was giving it to him.

Crowley’s back was on the floor. When had that happened? Not important. Aziraphale was stretched out on top of him, her weight and heat proof that this was real. His hands slid down from Aziraphale’s hair and over her shoulders and back, mapping every muscle and curve they came into contact with, committing them to memory.

Aziraphale’s hands made short work of his bowtie and the first few buttons of his shirtsleeves, then her mouth was there, pressing kisses against his racing pulse. He could feel the heat of her body between his legs, pressing against his growing erection. 

“Angel. Angel, stop,” panted Crowley. Aziraphale did stop, and Crowley had to bite down on a keen of loss even though he’d asked her to. She gazed down at him. “If we’re doing this-” Go-Sat-Fuck! Were they actually doing this? “-then I want to do this properly.”

“Properly?” asked Aziraphale, amusement in her voice and the curl of her lips.

“Bastard. Yes, properly. In a bed, respectable-like.”

Aziraphale’s grin widened, and with her own voice raspy with want, she purred, “Then take me to bed.” 

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale above him, almost close enough to kiss. He took in her face, the roundness of her cheeks, the kiss-swollen lips, her pert nose, and her eyes full of wonder as they stared at him. “Stars, do I love you.”

Aziraphale’s breath hitched audibly. She closed her eyes tight as if she were holding back tears. “Oh, dear. I-I-”

Crowley gently cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, his long fingers curling around the soft skin, fingertips grazed by downy curls as his thumb stroked the apple of her cheek. “Tonight. Tonight we can have. Tonight we can love. Right?”

Those blue eyes were filled with unshed tears when Aziraphale opened them. She held his hand to her cheek and rubbed her face against it. “Tonight we can love, and I do love, Crowley. I do.”

A smile spread wide over Crowley’s face. His heart was singing. He wanted nothing more than to bask in this moment for as long as he could. But Aziraphale was standing, pulling him to his feet as she did. He caught her lips in a short kiss before letting her lead him to the bedroom. 

The room was dark save for what light came through the balcony windows. Crowley’s eyes glanced at the bathroom, and a trickle of guilt went cold in his stomach. But then Aziraphale’s hands went up to his glasses and paused, waiting. Crowley gave a tiny nod and she slipped the glasses off. 

“You have such beautiful eyes, my dear,” said Aziraphale gently. “I’ve missed getting to see them since you started covering them up.”

Crowley opened his mouth to say that her eyes outshone the very stars he’d put into the sky, to promise to let her see his whenever she wanted, but the words wouldn’t come out. He voiced a few disjointed syllables before pulling Aziraphale in for another kiss.

It was his hands that removed Aziraphale’s dinner jacket, her waistcoat, his hands that slid the braces off her shoulders and ran down her sides. His hands that made her arch and her eyelids flutter closed with pleasure. Six thousand years and he was finally being allowed to touch Aziraphale as he’d always wanted. He kissed her; needy, wanting kisses that begged. Is this all right? May I continue? Aziraphale pressed encouragements against his mouth with her lips. Crowley’s fingers undid Aziraphale’s bowtie, and then the first few buttons of her shirt. His mouth found the revealed flesh, the soft fold under her chin, warm and slightly salty. 

“Oh, darling,” sighed Aziraphale, head back and hand tightening in the hair at the nape of Crowley’s neck. Crowley’s ears rang with the endearment and his lips found hers again.

“Say it again,” he pleaded as he worked on the rest of her buttons.

“Darling? Crowley, my darling,” said Aziraphale sweetly, petting his hair.

“Yes. Yes, yours. Always yours.” Crowley’s throat constricted against the words. He’d spent so long hiding them away that his body refused to speak them. “I love how my name sounds when you say it," he whispered across Azirpahale’s skin.

Soft, yielding flesh under Crowley’s fingers nearly did him in right then and there. Then Aziraphale was pressing into him, kissing him and pushing at his own jacket. Crowley shucked it off quickly, not wanting his hands off Aziraphale a moment longer than necessary. He kissed his way back to her exposed throat. 

Crowley tried to toe off his shoes, all the while pressing Aziraphale backwards closer to the bed. He tripped over said shoes and fell forward, braced by Aziraphale who failed to hold back a giggle. He laughed too, a giddy thing that bubbled up and sounded ridiculous, but he didn’t care. He was here with Aziraphale. What else mattered? What else could ever matter? He slipped his arms around her and held her tight against him, soaking in the warmth of her, the softness of her. 

“I love you,” he whispered into Aziraphale’s skin. It could be enough, this stolen night in a Paris hotel room. More than he’d ever expected to have; a memory to last until the world burned to ashes and stardust. He would gladly take this if she wanted to give it to him.

Aziraphale let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob. Crowley cupped her face and kissed her cheeks, her nose, her lips.

Hands and cloth, mouths and skin; Crowley marveled at each bit of flesh revealed to him as their clothes fell away. He ran his hands over Aziraphale slowly, carefully, caressing soft sounds from Aziraphale’s lips. Aziraphale’s hands were hot as they grazed up and down his sides, grasping at him, pulling him close. She was on the bed and he was following her; a dark moth to her golden flame. Let him burn up from her, it would be worth it to know the glory of her love at least once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live! 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me. I'm sorry for taking so long to update this fic. On top of the world in general, I've been going through some personal stuff in the last few weeks that's made it hard to write anything except short fluff pieces. I can't promise the next chapters will be out in a more timely fashion, but I will promise to try.
> 
> Thank you again for reading my stuff.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to [chewb](http://https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewb/pseuds/chewb) for beta'ing this for me.

Aziraphale watched Crowley sleep as dawn rose gray then pink and gold in the sky through the crack between the drapes. Crowley was sure to be cross with her when he woke, but holding him while he slept, watching his peaceful face, Aziraphale loved it and couldn’t bring herself to wake him. The peaceful stillness of the moment was something Aziraphale had never thought, never dared hope, she could have. She wanted to savor it for as long as she could.

The dawn light caught Crowley’s hair, making it glow. Aziraphale reached out with gentle fingers and played with the locks, watching the light dance like flames. Crowley made a sleepy purr of pleasure and languidly blinked sleep from his eyes. Those golden eyes caught hers, their faces only inches apart in the morning light, and he smiled at her. “Hi.”

Aziraphale smiled back. “Good morning.”

“Yeah. It is.” Crowley shifted closer and slipped his arm around Aziraphale’s waist under the covers; his touch sending tingles all along her skin. He tensed in her arms. “Morning?”

“Yes, I’m afraid,” said Aziraphale as Crowley leaned over her to see the light creeping around the drapes as if trying to encroach on their bubble of peace; pierce it and expose them to the reality they could not escape.

Crowley gazed down at her with hope-filled eyes. “You’re still here?”

“Well, it is my room,” replied Aziraphale, trying for nonchalant as her heart twisted in her chest. She felt Crowley tense at her words and knew she’d put her foot in it again.

“Oh. Right. I should-should I go?” he asked, pulling his arm away from her. 

Aziraphale caught his wrist just as his hand left her side. It couldn’t end now, not like this. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t?” Crowle’s voice cracked. 

“Not yet,” said Aziraphale as gently as she could.

And just like that, Aziraphale watched that flicker of hope be snuffed out. Aziraphale intertwined their fingers. Crowley pressed his own gangly frame against her ample, soft curves. He buried his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s shoulder, nose pressed into the flesh of her neck. She felt him breathe in deeply as if trying to take her into himself. Oh, how she wished he could, that they never had to part. Her heart was already breaking.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Aziraphale, voice tight and raspy. “This was a mistake.”

Aziraphale realized that was the exact wrong thing to say as Crowley slipped free of her embrace. “Guess that’s my cue.” 

“Crowley, I didn’t mean-I just-” Why couldn’t she ever say anything right? Why was she always hurting him?

Crowley wasn’t listening. She sat up and reached out for him, but he ignored her and stood from the bed, snapping his clothes back onto his body along with his glasses. “I get it, Aziraphale. Big mistake. Don’t worry. You can blame it all on me, demon that I am.”

“Crowley, please!” Aziraphale begged to his rigid back. “I’m not saying that I didn’t want it to happen, only that I shouldn’t have allowed it.” She reached out a hand to touch his.

“Yeah, I get it!” snapped Crowley, shrinking away from her touch. He wouldn’t look at her, and that hurt worse than his sharp tone. He took a deep breath and said more calmly, “It shouldn’t have happened. We’ll just act like it never did, and no one ever has to know. That’s what we agreed on last night.”

“Crowley…”

“I should go check on King.” Before Aziraphale could say anything else he was gone.

“I can’t pretend it didn’t happen,” she rasped out into an empty room.

* * *

Toddy swallowed against his suddenly dry throat and took a calming breath. Why was he so nervous? He was just going to knock on King’s door and ask him if he wanted breakfast. King, tall, dangerous, and gorgeous. King, who had just last night kissed him like he was the answer to all life’s questions. Toddy could still feel the warmth of King’s lips on his, the scratch of his stubble against his cheek, the strength of his hands holding him close, and the press of his body… 

“Get ahold of yourself, Toddy, and not like that,” he whispered to himself and what his own words had conjured up. “Just knock on the damned door already.”

Another deep breath for luck and Toddy rapped his knuckles on the door. Nearly instantly he heard King call for him to come in. Toddy jumped in surprise at the sound, mentally chided himself, and opened the door.

King was sitting up in the bed, his hair tousled and pajamas rumpled. He looked sleepy and utterly delectable. Toddy swallowed again and put on a smile. “Morning,” he said brightly. “Sleep well?”

“Not really. I don’t think I slept a wink actually. I just…” King let his voice trail off, his eyes cutting away from Toddy.

“Thinking about last night?” asked Toddy, trying to come off as helpful and not too hopeful. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. King nodded. “Having second thoughts?”

“Second, third, fourth, and fifth. I just keep coming back to that kiss.”

“And is that good or bad?”

King groaned and leaned back against the headboard of the bed, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I don’t know.”

Toddy sighed and walked around to the empty side of the bed and climbed in. King pulled his hands from his face and looked at him in confusion and a tiny hint of fear. Toddy tried not to be insulted by that. The poor thing was having a crisis of identity after all. “Don’t give me that look. I don’t bite, without consent.” He scooted closer but just to arm’s length; didn’t want to spook him. “Am I correct in assuming you liked the kiss last night?”

“Yes,” said King after what felt like an eon of silence.

“And would you like to do it again?”

Even more silent time passed before King nodded in agreement, his eyes flicking down to what Toddy assumed was his lips.

“Now?”

King licked his lips and let out a nervous huff of air. Toddy leaned in and teased a kiss across those soft, damp lips. King pressed forward and met him, one arm coming up around his shoulders to hold him close while the other cupped his jaw. The kiss was slow, searching, learning. It felt like King was memorizing the shape and feel of his mouth, his thumb brushing against the sensitive place behind his ear. A tiny, needy whine slipped from Toddy’s mouth to be replaced with a gasp as King peppered light kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Each touch sent sparks through Toddy, heating his blood. He fisted his hands in the sheets and King’s shirt, fighting the urge to rut against him for fear of going too fast down this new path for him. But maybe…

“May I touch you?” husked Toddy into King’s ear. King stilled and pulled back. Toddy’s stomach sank.

King was flushed and looked like he might balk at any second, but he swallowed, the movement of his Adam’s Apple bobbing was more hypnotic to Toddy than it had any right to be, and said, “Ok. D-do you want me to-”

Toddy gave him a slow, sultry smile. “My dear King, all I want you to do is lay back and enjoy.”

* * *

Why was he so fucking stupid? Why did he always do this? He should have known better. Why did he, once again, rip his heart out and lay it at the angel’s feet knowing she’d tear it to shreds? Because he had known, he had _known_ that was exactly what was going to happen last night, but he had done it anyway. Why? Why?! 

Crowley raked his hands through his hair and pulled it in frustration. He pulled until he could blame the tears in his eyes on that pain instead of the one in his heart. 

The hallways of the hotel were a blur to him as he trudged through them. Why had he thought it would be different this time? 

Because she’d never begged him to stay before. She’d never kissed him before. She’d never welcomed him into her body before.

Crowley’s heart beat frantically at the thought. The world spun, and he slumped down against a wall for a few seconds but he forced himself back to his feet. He couldn’t break down here. Just make it to the room, check on King, and then… Crowley had no idea what to do after that. What he wanted to do was go, just leave and crawl into a hole until the pain stopped. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.

Somehow Crowley found the right hotel room. He snapped the door unlocked and schooled his features from utterly wretched to hopefully looking like he’d just had a rough night before entering.

“Fuck!”

Hearing King’s shout snapped Crowley out of his funk and he bolted for the bedroom door. The absolute last thing he needed was for King to get offed on his watch and have Beelzebub asking where the fuck he’d been when it happened.

Crowley covered the distance in a few short strides and had his hand on the doorknob when the smell hit him, pulling him up short. The scent of lust, a thick heady perfume, seeped out from the seams around the door. Crowley let go of the knob like it had been soaked in holy water and backpedaled several paces. King was definitely not alone, and now that Crowley was paying attention, he didn’t sound like he minded at all. It would seem King had moved on from Aziraphale with lightning speed. Crowley felt a strange burst of anger at that; insulted on Aziraphale’s behalf. He spun on his heel and headed for his bedroom. He needed to get his head straight, not a front-row seat to King’s newest conquest.

In his bedroom, Crowley found the bed used. A shot of panic ran through him and he went for the pillows, sighing in relief when his fingers found Aziraphale’s handkerchief still underneath. Once the panic subsided, a new aroma registered. Toddy’s scent was on the sheets. Toddy had stayed here last night? Well, that made some sort of sense.

The tiny hellhamster in Crowley’s mind kickstarted the gears spinning. Toddy and King? He did another about-face and stared out his open door to King’s. Then he stared at his hand; a guilty itch crossed his palm.

“Bless me,” Crowley whispered to himself. He definitely wasn’t staying here now. King with some stranger he found on the way back to the hotel was one thing, but Toddy? No. He’d let them have their space. 

Crowley snapped himself out of his tuxedo and into a suit before sneaking back out of the suite. He’d go lurk at the hotel bar or something until it was safe. He made it as far as the elevator.

Aziraphale was standing there looking around as if trying to get her bearings. Crowley’s traitorous heart did a somersault at the sight of her. Her hair was still tousled and she was wrapped in a dressing gown over trousers and loafers. Her eyes fell on him; they were red-rimmed and puffy. Had she been crying? Crowley took two steps towards her before getting a hold of himself, the urge to go to her nearly overpowering. She was startled to see him, sniffed, and said, “Crowley.” She swayed nervously, twisting her fingers together. “I-I was hoping to find you. I wanted to apologize, again. What I said to you was dreadful. I always find myself saying the wrong thing around you.”

“So you _didn’t_ mean that last night was a mistake?” asked Crowley, hating himself for hoping, but unable to stop himself. He took a hesitant step forward and pushed his luck. He needed to hear it. “And you’re happy it happened?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale, the single word coming out in a relieved sigh. “I will cherish last night for as long as I exist.”

Her words sounded so earnest, so sincere, but a trickle of doubt went down Crowley’s spine. “But?”

Aziraphale’s open, loving face scrunched up in a frown. “But what?”

“No one says something like that without there being a ‘but’ coming.”

She shook her head. “No, no buts. What I was doing such an abysmal job at saying earlier was that I can’t let last night be the only instance. I don’t have the strength-” Aziraphale stopped herself mid-sentence, frowning and shaking her head. “No. I don’t _want_ to pretend that last night didn’t happen. I don’t _want_ last night to be the only instance. I want-I want you, Crowley. I love you.”

Crowley wanted so badly to stop her right there, to let that be enough, to take her back to her room and make love to her all over again. He wanted it to the point his body was nearly vibrating with it. But he couldn’t, because he knew if he did he would just get his heart broken all over again. “Please, do not yank me around anymore, Angel.” He had to force the next words out. He had to make them exist. “Because I’m tired. I’m tired of playing by your rules only for you to change them whenever it suits you.”

Aziraphale gave him a hurt and confused frown. “I don’t-”

“What are you doing now?” Crowley threw his hands up in exasperation. “We’re enemies, we’re not enemies. We’re friends, we’re not friends. Only this one time, but now-” He growled to the ceiling.” Tell me what you want, Angel. I can’t keep letting you break my heart.” 

“You,” croaked Aziraphale, her voice hoarse as she tried to hold back her own tears. “It’s always been you. It always will be you. Do you think it hasn’t been destroying me for millennia that I can’t have you?”

Whatever resolve Crowley still had crumpled at the desperation in Aziraphale’s face. He went to her and folded her into his arms, burying his nose in her hair. “You already have me, love. I just need to know where I stand.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” said Aziraphale plaintively into Crowley’s shoulder. “I’ve tried so hard not to love you, thinking that would keep you safe. But I can’t do that anymore.”

“Then don’t,” said Crowley as he felt the angel shudder in his arms. “Don’t push me away. Love me and let me love you. We can figure everything else out together.”

“It’s too dangerous,” whispered Aziraphale.

Crowley cupped Aziraphale’s face and stroked his thumbs over her damp cheeks. When had her tears broken loose? “Let it be dangerous; it’s worth it.” 

Aziraphale pressed one of his hands against her cheek. “I don’t have the strength to fight this anymore. I wish I did, for both our sakes.” She pressed a kiss into his palm. “If I love you, I lose you. If I don’t love you, I lose you. I know which one I ought to do, but-”

Crowley pulled her against his chest and held her there, his cheek resting against her soft hair. “They haven’t caught on in all this time, I doubt they’ll even notice. But, if they do, we’ll figure out something. We’ll go someplace they can’t find us.”

“Where could that possibly be?” asked Aziraphale, her arms slipping around his slim waist.

“Big universe out there,” Crowley said, forcing his voice to stay light. “Lots of spare planets. No one would even notice us.”

Aziraphale gave a chuckle that caught in her throat. “You just want to show off your stars.” 

Crowley pressed a grin into her hair. “Figured me out, have you? Always wanted to take you to see them up close.”

“I’d like that.” 

The sound of a door opening and shutting startled them both apart. Aziraphale flushed and wrapped her dressing gown tighter around herself.

“We could continue this in your room?” suggested Crowley in a low voice as a human walked past them to the elevator, barely giving either of them more than a polite nod of his head. 

“I’d like nothing more than that,” replied Aziraphale, her voice equally as soft. She was already edging her way down the hallway. “Though I have no idea when Toddy will return so…” She let her voice trail off, pointing out that they could be interrupted.

Crowley felt a smile curl the corners of his mouth. “About that…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you read that right, those of you who noticed. The chapter count has gone up. I had initially planned to end this fic where the movie ended and then have a sequel one-shot to tie the story back to the main GO continuality. But since 10 is such a nice, even number, and that one-shot's really just a glorified epilogue anyway, I changed my mind. 
> 
> See you all in the next chapter!


End file.
